


you can't force a love to grow

by turtle_abyss



Series: Medieval Fantasy AU [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Courting Rituals, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Rituals, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, heart problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_abyss/pseuds/turtle_abyss
Summary: The people of Midgard say the drought is a final curse wrought by the Red Skull as he and his men were driven from the land into the churning winter sea. King Fury of Midgard believes in no such curses, but his people are starving and riotous and he is desperate. He puts out a call for aid to the other kingdoms. The desert only howls its answer, the messenger to Asgard is turned away at the border, but the messenger to the mountain kingdom of Kamar-Taj returns - shaken and babbling of ghosts and demons - carrying a scroll. Kamar-Taj will open a route of trade, but in exchange, they want a bride for their prince.King Fury, childless, puts out a call to his noble houses. Lord Howard Stark of the Southern Mines senses an opportunity for advancement and offers up his son, Anthony, who fits the specifications listed in the terms.Anthony would argue. Wants to fight and scream and flee. He’d dreamed of a love marriage like his mother always spoke of. The King paints a kind picture of duty and dignity: this marriage will save his people from starvation. His father threatens to throw him to the desert's mercy. There's no point in arguing. His heart probably won't last long anyway.





	1. The Barren Land

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! Okay, I'm like a month late, but here's my Big Bang! This damn thing fought me every step of the way, but it's finally here!  
Big thanks to Codee21, Imagined, and Lacrimula Falsa - who all beta'd for me and cheered me on and told me I was being dumb when I was fretting over everything under the sun. Not sure I could have done this without them. (or rather, that you would have gotten this anytime this year without them)  
And also MASSIVE thanks to [allineedisonedream](https://allineedisonedream.tumblr.com/) \- who was my artist and whose art was so very incredibly inspiring for several parts of this fic.

He somehow hadn’t expected his father to sell him out like this. Which was foolish of him, because Lord Howard Stark had been threatening to sell him off for better prospects since he was twelve.

Even before his mother had passed.

Metal caught the dawning sunlight as Tony carried the last of his belongings through what would no longer be his home and he missed his mother fiercely.

The knife on the pedestal displayed in their living room gleamed as new as the day it had been made. Silver and gold spun together so delicately for the hilt, embedded with small precious gems and depicting in minute detail a starry desert night and a prince bargaining with a ruby-eyed ifrit for one of those lovely stars - the sapphire amongst the diamonds. A scene from his mother’s favorite story. One she’d told him nearly every night as a boy.

That knife was probably the only thing in this house his father still cared about. Including him. Sometimes, Tony itched to steal it away for himself. A memento of happier times. Or perhaps just to get his father to look at him for more than a moment’s glance.

His mother had always promised him that he would either make or receive a wedding knife someday. The kind that only came from a true-love match. Something that took so much time, so much skill. Tony had dreamed of making one for someone. Had dedicated so much time to honing his smithing skills.

All for naught.

“Sorry, mama,” he whispered with a sad smile, stroking the handle of his bag with a restless thumb. “Looks like that life isn’t for me after all.”

As he left his home for what would likely be the very last time, he wished his mother’s memory goodbye.

His father ignored him as Ser Rhodes helped him into the carriage seat across from him, reading through the papers of the marriage contract once more. Likely searching for some trick. He was such a paranoid bastard ever since he returned from the war and he’d only gotten more ill-tempered after Maria Stark had passed.

The ride to the capital would be agony.

~~~~~~

“Remember boy, Stark men are made of iron. I don’t want to see so much as a hint of weakness here, do you understand?” Howard whispered harshly outside the throne room as the guards studiously paid them no mind.

“Yes, sir,” Tony murmured, forcibly not wincing as his father’s fingers dug sharply into his shoulder.

“Then get in there. Don’t forget your manners. And for the love of God, don’t mention any of your_ problems. _ You’re going north or I’m selling you off to Hammer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Howard made a disgusted noise and shoved him forward.

Used to this, Tony merely took a moment to straighten his shirt before pressing the doors open at the guard’s nod.

He stepped carefully into the room, eyes on the imposing figure who stood near the throne with his back turned to him.

“Anthony Stark,” the king greeted, his voice echoing in the empty chamber.

Tony bowed as deeply as he could without his blood rushing to his head.

“Or is it _ Lord _ Anthony Stark?” the king pondered.

“No, your majesty,” Tony responded dutifully, very much aware of his lack of station in spite of his noble blood. His father and godfather were always quite keen to remind him.

The king hummed thoughtfully, though Tony was under no delusion that anything about this meeting was unplanned.

“Well, it is now.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re Lord Anthony Stark now,” the king stated lightly, a hint of humor in his voice.

“But I have no estate-”

“Doesn’t matter,” the king dismissed, turning fully to him now. Tony tried not to stare at the eyepatch on that stern, scarred face. “I’m bestowing on you a title without estate. You’ll be listed as a part of my court as a diplomatic envoy.”

Tony stared.

“I can’t exactly send someone without any title to go marry a prince, can I? Might reflect poorly on me.”

Tony had no idea what to say to that. No, sire, it wouldn’t reflect poorly on you? Yes, sire, you’re absolutely right? Either could be taken the wrong way.

Fury seemed to find no fault with his lack of response though, if the friendly hint of a smile on his face were anything to go by.

“Now. Your father tells me you’re the best man for the job.”

“I hope so, sire,” Tony answered, eyes averted. He hadn’t been told he’d have to prove himself. He didn’t really_ want _to prove himself.

“Well, don’t hope. Do. I don’t want to go through all of this - giving you a title and resources, bringing your father into my court of advisors, writing up a treaty with Kamar-Taj - all for you to offend the prince and condemn us to starvation.”

Tony’s hands clenched behind his back.

“You understand how important this is?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tony said tightly, staring resolutely at the cold stonework at his feet. It was better to maintain the illusion of deference by keeping his head bowed than to allow King Fury to see his rage.

How typical of his father to get rid of him for a higher station.

“Then I won’t keep you much longer. The journey to our border is long and the mountain paths to Kamar-Taj are treacherous. Your father said you’d been given allowance to take some staff with you. Who are you taking?”

“Ser Rhodes and Ser Hogan are coming as my guards and Miss Potts as my attendant,” Tony reported dutifully, hoping the King wouldn’t insist on someone else. He’d be perfectly miserable going into a foreign land without a friend he could actually trust. The King hummed thoughtfully and Tony chanced a glance up at the king’s scarred face. He didn’t seem disinclined to Tony’s choices, but then the king was well-known for being a shrewd man.

“Have Ser Rhodes go see Knight-Commander Rogers. He’ll supply your outfit with better equipment and some more men. I don’t like the idea of you going up those mountains without some more protection. Two or three men, I think. We don’t want to intrude overmuch by asking The Ancient One to house too many of our own people.”

“She’d take offense?” Tony asked carefully. He really_ really _didn’t want to upset his apparent future mother-in-law right at the start.

“She’s a stern, prideful woman,” King Fury told him plainly, “And she doesn’t like me. She’ll likely think we’re saying she doesn’t maintain the security of her kingdom well enough. Or she’ll think I have ulterior motives.”

_ “Don’t you?” _ Tony didn’t ask. 

“Tell him I want one of those to be Ser Romanov.”

“Yes, sire.”

He could feel the king’s heavy one-eyed stare on him and did his best not to fidget. His father would not be kind to him if he made a poor impression on the king. 

“You’re dismissed.”

Tony sketched out a bow only just deep enough to be polite. The king had demanded a diplomatic bride, his father had offered, Fury had accepted, and neither one of them had asked his opinion on the matter. Bare politeness was really all he could manage.

Behind him, he heard Fury sigh heavily as he left.

The first order of business was to find Rhodey and relay those instructions. Then he’d have to find Pepper and see if anyone was giving her any trouble. Maybe send Happy over to back her up if he wasn’t there already. Then he’d impose himself on a local smithy and-

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. His heart pounded.

“Didn’t make a fool out of me, did you son?” his father asked with false cheerfulness. To anyone else, he’d look like a man enjoying his last few days with his son. Everyone here truly believed he was a dutiful father and it was one thing Tony certainly would not miss about the capital.

“No,” Tony said and some of what he was feeling must have crept into his voice because Howard’s hand shifted up to grip the back of his neck. Tony froze in his hold, tried not to look terrified.

“Don’t you get uppity with me. I’m still your father, boy. You may be a disgrace to Stark men, but all I have to do is tell my friend the king about your_ little problem _and we’ll have you married off to someone closer instead for what time you’ve got left. I’ve gotten requests. Though I can’t for the life of me understand why they want you.”

Tony knew he wouldn’t do it. Howard valued his new status too much to take it back now. But the threat was enough to remind him he hadn’t escaped Midgard yet. Surely being some prince’s trophy husband couldn’t be half as bad as his life here.

Maybe his new spouse could even be convinced to allow him to indulge in his passion for building...

“Yes, father,” Tony said as agreeably as he could manage, hoping his usual act of compliance would placate his father enough to send him on his way.

Howard grunted and shoved him forward. Tony did his best not to fall and antagonize his father further.

“Well, get on with your duties. I don’t want you writing later to say you forgot anything.”

Tony used the opportunity to hurry away. The halls of stone, fortunately, had a pattern to them that Tony could follow to a more populated area since he had no idea where the library was located.

He was contemplating skipping his so-called culture lessons when he heard voices.

“Did you hear? Lord Stark’s son is being sent to marry the prince up at Kamar-Taj.”

Tony stopped before he turned the corner.

“That kingdom up in the mountains? That we never hear from and the traders never want to go through?” 

Gossipers. Perhaps two of the maids? He felt bad for eavesdropping, but couldn’t contain his curiosity. Surely people in the capital were more knowledgeable about the mountain kingdom than he was.

“That’s the one.”

“Poor bastard. Loss for us too, eh Sarah? Anthony’s a pretty thing to look at.”

Tony felt his face heat.

“He really is,” ‘Sarah’ sighed dreamily.

There was a pause and Tony peeked carefully around the corner, seeing a younger maid lean over to the other as though to tell a secret, though she hardly lowered her voice.

“I heard their Ancient One sacrificed her spouse to a demon in exchange for immortality.”

“She’s got a successor, she can’t be immortal! You don’t need a successor if you’re gonna be around forever.”

“Extended life then. She’s been around for centuries, they say. You think the prince’ll do the same?”

“The King wouldn’t send the poor boy to his death. He’s not heartless.”

“One minor lord’s son for centuries of peace with our neighboring kingdom that can ensure a new safe route of trade since Asgard closed their borders? I’d do it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Well, it’s true! Gary was saying he heard that the royal family in Asgard had been assassinated by Hydra spies just as he was leaving last!”

“Gary would say he caught a whale if he thought you’d believe him,” the older one said dryly.

“Maybe. But I overheard Maria saying the last caravans to Asgard were turned back by an army. She wants better protection for them. I figure that’s why the King is really sending young Anthony Stark.”

“To protect the caravans?” her companion said skeptically.

“To get reinforcements! If we need to prepare for another war!”

“Now don’t get histrionic. Hydra was exiled to the sea and there’s not going to be another war. That’s ridiculous. It’s bad enough we’re sending that poor young man to go marry a three-eyed prince. We don’t need rumors of a war panicking everyone in the middle of this drought.”

“He’s got three eyes?!”

“Well, all of them up in the mountain do. I heard one of the scholars muttering about it being in all the old texts.”

“That’s crazy. I heard they don’t eat food like normal people and that’s why we never trade crops.”

“They’ve got farms, Sarah.”

“Doesn’t mean they eat the same stuff we do,” Sarah replied petulantly.

A hand touched his shoulder and Tony nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned, fearfully, afraid his father had caught him eavesdropping like a peasant child, but it was only Pepper peering at him with concern.

“Tony?”

“Oh hey, Pep.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with someone for culture lessons soon?”

“Oh! Right. Yes. I just, uh, have to tell Rhodey something real quick.”

Pepper sighed deeply. “Just tell me. I’m heading his direction soon anyway.”

“You’ve already got so much to do though-”

“Tony.” The stress in her no-nonsense voice plain.

“The King wants him to see the Knight-Commander for supplies and to ask for two or three more guards, one of whom has to be a Ser Romanov,” Tony reported quickly, fearful of his friend’s wrath.

“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“I suppose. I still hate to burden you.”

Pepper’s face went soft in a way she so rarely allowed in public.

“You’re not a burden, Tony. I needed to talk to Rhodey anyway.” She smiled warmly at him, then waved at the hall she’d just come from. “Now get to the library.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~~~~

Scott Lang was kind of a mess. He wasn’t the librarian. He didn’t even work under Fury’s Councilor of State. Tony would think he was just a guy they’d pulled off the street if the man hadn’t nervously rattled off his qualifications as they shook hands.

Scott Lang was apparently apprenticed under Lord Pym. Who was a scientist.

A scientist Howard was frequently and vehemently at odds with due to their diametrically opposing views on very nearly everything.

So Tony asked the obvious as they proceeded into the library through heavy wooden doors.

“Well, you see, I sort of lost Hank’s - Lord Pym’s, I mean - his - actually you know what? That’s not important. What is important is that I was sort of punished by having to find books in the library that had been put back in the wrong place and put them in the right place. The librarian has been sick, y’know? Heat fever is no joke. And Hank - I mean, Lord Pym - he owed him a favor so here I ended up. And then I got bored and read a bunch of the stuff on Kamar-Taj because let me tell you, that section was a MESS. Like a wind storm blew through. Speaking of, don’t open the book titled ‘Wind’. It somehow_ literally _creates a wind storm. I had to start all over.”

Wind storms from books? What sort of nonsense…

Scott paused in his rambling and turned to look back at him.

“You don’t believe me.”

Tony shook his head.

“That’s fine. I didn’t believe it either. Then I opened the book again. Will not be making _ that _ mistake a third time, let me tell you."

Tony hummed noncommittally as he was guided to a table by a wall of windows that oversaw the training yard on the west end of the castle.

“That’s really not even the weirdest thing in those books.”

“Oh?” Tony questioned absently, spying a glint of white silver on grey and black armor moving below. He’d know that armor anywhere. Still, it surprised him how quickly Rhodey had been informed and then gotten down there. He must have been nearby. Typical of his overprotective best friend, really.

“Yeah, the books kept going on and on about the people from Kamar-Taj opening up their “third eyes”. Three eyes! No wonder we never see them come down the mountain.”

He wondered how many people Rhodey had frightened by - “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah. Three eyes. I know.”

“Okay,” Tony said weakly, suddenly feeling very attentive to what Scott had to say, “What-what else?”

“Well, there was this whole thing in the more historical texts about how a man ripped out his third eye and used it to seal away an ancient, all-powerful demon eons ago and how the rulers of Kamar-Taj are the spiritual descendants of the person who did it?” Scott glanced to an open book containing elaborate scrawl and read carefully along a passage, _ “And Great Agamotto sought a place to hide his Eye and journeyed and wandered until he found the place where man could meet stars and there he sat and there he stayed.” _

“So-so the-the whole ‘third eye’ thing - that’s real?” Tony ran a hand through his hair anxiously, gripping tightly at the back of his head, “That is a real thing?”

“Yeah,” Scott said with an apologetic grimace, “It’s not just this passage. There’s whole instruction manuals back there that have ‘opening the third eye’ as the first step to a whole host of things and later on this book has an account of a criminal who had his third eye stitched closed as punishment for his transgressions.”

"He had his eyes stitched closed?" Tony asked faintly.

"Just the third one, I think, but...yeah." He grimaced, then caught sight of Tony's pale countenance and hurriedly backtracked. "Or, y'know, I could be wrong! It's really archaic English! And-and well maybe I'm interpreting it wrong?"

Scott looked both ways before leaning across the table into Tony’s space. “Just between you and me,” he whispered, “I think I might be the only one who’s read these books in a long time.”

Oh. Great.

“You know, Hank always says never to trust a Stark, but you seem alright. Pretty brave, if you ask me. Going to marry a three-eyed man for the sake of the kingdom.”

Tony put his head in his hands.

“Don’t remind me,” he murmured. Three eyes. Would it be rude to look at that eye? Would it be rude not to? Did he need to worry about bumping into the eye if they kissed? Would they kiss? Maybe three-eyed men didn’t kiss. Specifically because of the forehead bumping problem. But what about the wedding ceremony? Was their ceremony that different?

“Hey, man, I’m sorry. There’s no way you can get out of this?”

Tony shook his head, panic beginning to creep in. He could feel his body start to shake. He didn’t see the look of faint horror that took over Scott’s expression.

“They didn’t ask you about this at all, did they?”

Tony shook his head again, doing his best to breathe deeply without doing it noticeably. Still, Scott fluttered around him a bit.

“Let me go get you some tea. No tea allowed in the library, but the librarian keeps a stash in the back and he’s not here anyway so who cares?” Scott rambled as he ran off, presumably for tea.

He was finally getting away from home. Away from his father. Away from his creepy suitors. Away from the way people looked at him ever since his mother passed.

But at what cost?

He didn’t know how to deal with three-eyed men, or potential Hydra plots, or books that spewed wind. He didn’t know what would be expected of him at Kamar-Taj. The King said not to offend them - that he was a diplomatic envoy - but Tony didn’t know what that meant? 

His hands shook around the mug Scott set before him. 

The warmth of it helped not at all.

~~~~~~

Rhodey didn’t quite know what to expect from Knight-Commander Rogers, but it certainly wasn’t the tall young man before him. He’d expected someone older, more grizzled, to be the man who’d led the revolution against the Hydra faction who had assassinated Queen Margaret and taken the throne. Still, Rogers fit Lord Stark’s descriptions of the war perfectly - tall, blond, and incredibly powerful. Perhaps he simply aged well. He stood with a nearly regal military bearing as he and his second oversaw the knights’ training from a platform just above the clanging practice swords.

“Ser Rogers,” he called out as he approached from the side, wary of startling the big man holding his near-legendary shield.

Ser Rogers looked over at him before leaning over to his second, presumably transferring leadership of the training. Then the man jogged his way across the thick wood bridges that led to the slight rise Rhodey stood upon.

“Ser…Rhodes, right?”

Rhodey nodded and watched Rogers’s jaw clench with purpose.

“Let’s take a walk, Rhodes.”

Rhodey nodded and followed Rogers’s purposeful stride around the training area, far enough for them to hear each other, but close enough that the noise would keep anyone else from eavesdropping.

“The king said to assign a Ser Romanov to our detachment along with one or two more guards. He also said you’d have us outfitted with better equipment,” Rhodey started. Best to get the orders out of the way first.

“I’ll see to it. How many guards will be going besides my men?”

“Myself and Ser Hogan. It’s not much, but Lord Anthony is worried about offending anyone.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to have along the extra guard. The messengers have been having some issues at the pass, lately. At least that’s what I’ve heard from Maria,” Ser Rogers said with a shrug.

“Anything I should be particularly prepared for?” Rhodey asked calmly. Ser Rogers was one of the few who had journeyed to Kamar-Taj with Queen Margaret before the Hydra coup. Perhaps was even one of the only ones who still yet lived besides the king himself.

“The culture seemed largely monastic and the monks there made me very nervous,” Rogers drawled in a way that almost made it sound like it was meant to be a joke. Except he was entirely serious. “I never saw them train, though that’s not to say they didn’t. They had an eerie stillness to them - the kind you see in men who have trained for years. Except even the ones I thought were novices had it.”

“What about this prince?” Rhodey inquired, hoping he’d have something nice to tell Tony later.

“Never met him,” Rogers answered lightly. Damn. “But he’s probably the same way. The Ancient One is supposedly the best of the monks and that woman terrified me. I’d sit in the room with her and Pe- Queen Margaret as they had tea and shake in my boots. Most powerful, commanding woman I ever met. Every word was a blade and they said those words so politely you almost thought they were feathers."

A knight-in-training gave a loud cry nearby as he tried to rush his teacher foolishly. Rhodey chuckled as the knight tripped up the young man. Ser Rogers didn't seem to notice, lost in his memories as he was. Perhaps remembering the late queen was painful for him.

They'd covered nearly half the circuit around the training grounds before Rogers spoke again.

"Anthony Stark," he started slowly, and Rhodey braced himself for any kind of unsavory question, "is he much like his father?"

Rhodey couldn't contain a snort, despite the impropriety. "He's kinder. And more brilliant than his father ever could hope to be. Though I hope you won't tell anyone I said so."

Rogers hummed. "That's good. I knew Howard during the revolution. He seemed a good man. But I can’t imagine him doing very well at Kamar-Taj."

“Lord Stark is not the most diplomatic of men,” Rhodey agreed carefully. 

Ser Rogers smiled grimly. “I take it you don’t like him much?”

“He’s my patron. And the head of the family I’m sworn to,” Rhodey reminded him carefully.

“But you don’t like him.”

Rhodey considered the shouting men around them, his station, and his orders before shrugging.

“No. I don’t. Lady Stark used to say the war changed him for the worse before she passed. Made him paranoid. Shortened his temper.”

The Knight-Commander was silent as he considered the other knight’s words. Rhodey hoped he wouldn’t end up in trouble for this. Not that they could do much to him if he truly would spend the rest of his life in Kamar-Taj at his best friend’s side.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Rogers eventually swore, a grave look in his blue eyes.

Rhodey held back his sigh of relief and nodded.

“And since you’ve been candid with me,” Ser Rogers continued with a wry smile, and Rhodey braced himself, “I’ll let you know I’m sending Ser Barton with Ser Romanov. Ser Barton is a good man, but he can be a little too...witty. And Ser Romanov means well, but she likes to meddle.”

Rhodey kept his groan internal.

“Still, Ser Barton is the best archer in the country and Ser Romanov excels in close-quarters combat. They’ll be good to have if something goes wrong.”

“I appreciate it.” And he did. Even if it meant more people to keep an eye on. 

They rounded the other end of the training yard just as the second in command called an end to training and the gathered knights, squires, and pages began to head inside to deposit their arms and go in search of a hearty meal.

Knight-Commander Rogers clapped him on the shoulder and wished him well as he followed them, leaving Rhodey to seek out the armorer next.

~~~~~~

That night they feasted and Tony had to wonder at how quickly this had all gone through. In just four days, his life had been given away. In a week, he’d be at the mercy of the man his father and the king had sold him to in order to save the public.

“What are you over here looking so morose for? You’re getting married!”

Tony turned to see Obadiah looming over him, familiar half-grin on his face. The older man clapped a heavy hand on his shoulders and tugged Tony into his side forcefully enough he nearly slid off the side of his chair.

Tony turned to look back at the feast before them, uncomfortable.

“Guess I just don’t see the point of having all this food when the country is starving. Seems a waste,” Tony murmured.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Tony glanced back up to see the skepticism on Obie’s face. “Come on, kid. You forget how long I’ve known you. Don’t go thinking you can keep things from me. Now, it’s about the marriage, isn’t it?”

Tony nodded.

Obie made a victorious noise.

“Nerves, huh?”

It was easier to keep nodding than to try to explain how betrayed he felt.

“Well, don’t be. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Pretty face like yours, you’ll have this prince eating out of the palm of your hand in no time.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Tony muttered, thinking of everything he’d gone over with Scott Lang.

“You should be. All you have to do is bat those doe eyes at him and he’ll be clay in your hands. You’ve been charming folks that way since you were a babe. Heck, I know young master Hammer is moping off by the entryway now that his courtship request has officially been denied.”

Tony snorted quietly. Served Justin right. The man had been ignoring Tony’s rejections for years and a marriage to him was his father’s favorite threat.

“Wish this hadn’t come about so suddenly,” Obadiah said wistfully. “I could’ve prepared you better for everything you’re gonna have to do. Your father’s no good at it. Always wants to get straight to the point of things. Stubborn as a mule too. Diplomacy requires a..._ delicate _ touch. Gotta make sure all parties are _ satisfied. _ Sometimes you’ll have to do things you aren’t comfortable with to keep the others appeased.”

Tony felt that big hand move from his shoulder to grip the back of his neck and shuddered. 

“You know, I think the library might have some texts on the subject. We could make your excuses and go find them?”

Tony’s skin crawled and his head swam. He wished Obie would let go of him. All he could focus on was that solid over-warm grip holding onto him like he was some wayward kitten that needed to be returned to the pile.

“I-”

“Lord Anthony.”

Tony glanced up, feeling a sharp hope, and took in the stocky blond man before him. His expression was friendly but he looked sharply at where Obie’s fingers rested at the join of his shoulder and neck.

“My name is Ser Clint Barton. I’m one of the knights His Majesty has assigned to your entourage. I was hoping to ask you a few questions and then introduce you to Ser Romanov, if that’s alright?”

Obadiah frowned at him and Tony grimaced when his hand tightened, only to just barely hold back a sigh of relief when he let go.

“Well, you’re busy,” Obadiah remarked ruefully. “I’ll be there to see you off tomorrow. Go finish up your _ preparations. _”

“Right. I’ll see you later,” he said with a half-hearted wave goodbye.

He sighed deeply as Obadiah disappeared into the crowd and turned to Ser Barton, forcefully keeping himself from fidgeting under his thoughtful gaze.

“You had questions?”

“Not really. You seemed uncomfortable,” Ser Barton commented with a shrug as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

A smile brightened Ser Barton’s face significantly. “You’re welcome!” he responded cheerfully. Tony got the impression he wasn’t thanked much.

“So, you’ll be accompanying me up the mountain?” Tony asked hesitantly.

“Yep! Nat- uh, Ser Romanov and I are... unattached. Therefore, perfect to send along with you. I, for one, am real interested in seeing a place that isn’t here or Asgard. I hear Kamar-Taj has this pastry that’s made with roses. I can’t wait to try one.”

Tony couldn’t help the small smile that came at Ser Barton’s optimism.

“Ah, anyway, I’m your archer. Although I’m pretty good at hand-to-hand. Don’t let Nat lie to you.”

“Do you think we’ll have any problems?” he asked, feeling a frisson of worry at the mention of their combat skills.

Ser Barton seemed surprised though. “Problems? Oh, no, we’re not anticipating any. We’re mostly just going to be making sure you’re not beset by bandits or anything - people are getting pretty desperate up north. But I was helping run messages for the last fortnight about the trade deal, so that should stave off anything like that. People know what you’re doing and they’ll know not to interfere.”

Tony paled.

A fortnight.

His father had known--had had this arranged--for an entire fortnight.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest.

“Hey, come on, don’t be so worried. Everything is gonna be fine. Let me introduce you to Natasha, er, Ser Romanov and you’ll see you have nothing to worry about. No one is more terrifying than her.”

Ser Barton led him from his seat of honor to a small garden just off the main hall. Stone benches sat among well-kept greenery and the sunset shone stunningly on the hair of the redheaded woman sitting on one of them.

“Nat, I made a friend!”

“It better not be another stray mutt.”

“Nope! This one’s a noble.”

She turned then and smiled at him. It reminded him of serrated knives and the way he sometimes felt watched at night when he was alone.

“Stop that. You’re scaring him,” Ser Barton scolded.

Ser Romanov rolled her eyes, but her smile softened a bit and the feeling of needing to run away lessened.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Lord Anthony.”

“You as well, Ser Romanov.”

“Come sit with me. The other guests will be doing their political maneuvering all night and it’s best to just leave them to it. It won’t be helpful to you.”

So he sat beside her on the bench and Ser Barton sat on the ground with his back braced against her legs. Tony relaxed in the quiet that followed, the sounds of the feast fading to a low buzz behind them that mixed with the hum of the insects outside.

Barton and Romanov continued to bicker lightly and Tony relaxed knowing that there would be more friendly faces accompanying him into the mountains, savoring this last moment of peace.

~~~~~~

Pepper was performing a last-minute check of their supplies for the journey as well as ensuring all their luggage was tied down securely. Rhodey and Happy were checking the horses. His father kept a hand on his shoulder, a carefully neutral expression on his face. Their audience would assume it was hidden sadness at his son leaving. Tony knew it was hidden distaste about having to be seen seeing off his disappointment of a son instead of continuing his work.

He could just barely hear the stableboy telling Happy to be careful of ghosts and evil spirits on the thin, winding mountain paths. Hopefully ‘ghosts and evil spirits’ was childspeak for bandits. But who really knew what was possible in a land of three-eyed men and four-armed beasts and books that could cause windstorms?

“Don’t you ruin this, boy,” his father muttered from between clenched teeth. “You obey this Prince and please him however you have to in order to keep him agreeable.” Tony felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of what that entailed. He’d been trying so hard not to think about that part.

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t mumble. It’s unbecoming. Speak clearly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t think you can get away with running off whenever you please now. I didn’t tolerate it here and they aren’t going to tolerate it there.”

There was a familiar chuckle from behind them and Tony instinctively tensed further as a large hand settled on his other shoulder.

“Cut him some slack, Howard. Anthony’s a good boy. He’ll do what’s necessary. Won’t you?” Tony nodded obediently at the prompting squeeze that large hand gave his shoulder. At least he could count on Obie to save him from his father’s scorn.

“I suppose,” Howard said with a wry smile at his old friend.

“That’s the spirit. Last time you’ll see your boy for a while. Best to have a good farewell,” Obadiah said good-naturedly with his usual cheery grin. 

Howard harrumphed but gave Tony’s shoulder a solid pat. “I’ll let you say your own goodbyes then.” Tony almost wanted to latch onto his father, but Howard was quick to head over to criticize the state of the horses, oblivious to his son’s pleading gaze.

“Ah kid, I’m gonna miss you.” An arm snaked tightly around his shoulders and he was forcefully guided off further away from where Rhodey looked ready to intervene. “You know, if things don’t go to plan, you’ll always have a place with me.”

Tony kept his eyes towards the carriage, where Ser Romanov was now watching him intently. “Thank you for the kind offer, Obadiah,” Tony started, trying his best to stay diplomatic with his father’s oldest friend despite wishing very hard that the large man would stop touching him.

“Now Tony, you know it’s ‘Lord’ Obadiah. I know they’re calling you ‘Lord Anthony’ here, but you haven’t inherited your father’s estate just yet. I’ll let it slide this time, but you need to remember: propriety is important. Especially where you’re going!” Obadiah said as he tapped at Tony’s chest, a patronizing smile on his face. 

Tony shoved down his irritation and gave a tight smile back, nodding along as though he appreciated the ‘reminder’ before he remembered. “Actually,” he drawled with a mischievous smirk, “it_is _ Lord Anthony now. They can’t send someone without a title up to marry the Tajian Prince.”

Obadiah laughed loudly - too loud - and patted him heavily on the back.

“That’s good of the King to do that. Gives you some more leverage. Not that you don’t have plenty of _ assets _you can utilize when you’re negotiating with him, but sometimes it’s best not to play those cards too soon, hm?” Obadiah’s hand slid down to rest at his waist.

“I-I suppose?” Tony responded, keeping still despite his desire to squirm away.

“My lord,” Rhodey greeted Obadiah with a bow, “We’re soon to depart. If I might borrow Lord Anthony?”

Obadiah laughed that booming laugh of his. “Of course, of course,” he removed his hand and Tony nearly sighed, “Now remember you can write me anytime. I’m always glad to hear from you, Anthony.” Tony was drawn into a quick hug, stiff as a board, muscles tensed with discomfort. It really was terrible that Obadiah could make him somehow feel both safe and uncomfortable. He was almost ashamed at the relief he felt when he was released. Obie had never hurt him. Had always been there when his father wasn’t.

He watched Obadiah wink at him and saunter off to Howard’s side and couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. 

“Don’t let them get to you, Tones. They just want to scare you to keep you under their thumbs.”

“Still. They’re not all wrong,” Tony admitted.

“Well if there’s one thing you can thank your Tajian prince for, it’s getting you away from those two,” Rhodey said, leading Tony over to Pepper without touching him.

Tony sighed deeply.

“I suppose.”

Pepper grimaced sympathetically.

A hush fell over the area and they all turned to see King Fury striding steadily down the stairs towards them, halting halfway to loom over them all, his dark stare seeming to land heavily upon Tony from a distance. Still, the man had a regal bearing that commanded respect from all who could see him. 

“Ladies, Gentlemen,” his deep voice boomed over the crowd, “You know I’m not a man of many words, so my brevity will not alarm you.”

Tony glanced around him, but no one seemed uneasy.

“You know we are short on supplies due to the drought.” The crowd murmured. 

“You know Asgard has closed its borders and all its ports of trade.” The rumble of the crowd grew. 

“The people of our kingdom are hungry, I know. So I’ve reached out to our neighbors in the mountains. I know it’s been ten long years since Queen Margaret first approached Kamar-Taj about a treaty, but today we will finish her work and gain the aid of our neighbor to make it through this hard year until we can return to prosperity once more. We will not starve this winter, I promise you.”

The crowd roared its approval. King Fury raised one hand from where they had been clasped behind his back. The people went silent.

“So bid farewell and the best of luck to Lord Anthony Stark, who carries the hope of our people into foreign land to marry their prince and seal our alliance.”

Tony did his best not to flinch as the crowd cheered once more and his father clapped a hand to his shoulder and steered him toward the carriage that would take him to the rest of his life.

“Wave, boy,” his father hissed in his ear with a false smile to their audience. So Tony raised his hand feebly, heart pounding in his ears, knowing that at least as soon as he stepped into that carriage his father would no longer have power over him.

Yet despite all that, as his father helped him into the carriage where Pepper waited, he very nearly wanted to beg some sort of comfort off of the man who had at best ignored his existence since his mother passed. Then the door shut and reality set in.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asked as the carriage began to rock with movement. “You look a little pale.” He didn’t know how she could tell. The sun shining through the red curtains covering the small windows lit everything inside a warm pink hue.

“I’m fine,” he murmured despondently, looking out the window at the crowd come to see him off before drawing the curtains so he wouldn’t have to look at the people celebrating his newest prison sentence.

He would have to be fine.


	2. A Pair of Princes

The ride to the border was as uneventful as Ser Barton promised. His own hopeless thoughts were only made more depressing by the sight of Midgard’s pitiable crop fields - half-rotted under the unforgiving sun. The drought still wildly unkind north of the capital. He’d thought maybe it had just been his own home in the south that needed aid. They’d so often battled the dust storms up from the desert and salt spray from the sea that crop failure was not unusual and was thus planned for, but he could see that crop failure up north made things much more desperate than he’d thought.

The people they passed simply parted quietly for them, their weary eyes staring. Nausea from the bumpy ride only worsened at the sight of them. Twice now he’d handed Happy a bag of coin to give to someone he thought desperately needed it. On each occasion, as he peeked through the curtains of the window, he’d caught sight of Ser Barton giving away some of his own meal rations to children. Ser Romanov was always without bread come mealtime. He never saw her give it away, but he knew.

This whole endeavor would be worth whatever pain it wrought so long as he could know he’d bought these people a chance.

The further east they went, the better things seemed to get.

Their last stop in Midgard was a small town at the base of the beginning of the mountain range that Kamar-Taj is nestled within where a tired woman opened her inn to them and her unusually serious son brought them bread and vegetable soup that filled their stomachs with guilt. 

The next morning Tony gazed upon the mountain with dread before returning to the carriage once more.

Several days later, Ser Barton as their navigator declared they were only a day or two out.

An eerie wail arose on the wind as their path skirted the edge of a cliff-face, followed by a great roar and loud cracks like heat lightning. Tony thought of his mother’s stories about demons in the wind and sand who blew the great storms across the desert and tugged his cloak closer around him. 

The carriage rocked precariously, suddenly, and he reached forward to steady Pepper when she tipped into the footwell between them.

“Happy?” he called uncertainly.

“Stay inside!” Happy ordered back, the irritation in his voice clear even through the wood.

Tony pressed an ear against the side of the carriage, trying to hear anything else from outside, trying to hear if there’s trouble, trying to hear past the pounding of his own heart.

The horses screamed briefly and he heard shouting from Rhodey and Happy both. Pepper couldn’t keep him from peeling back the curtain of the window on the door.

A shadow passed across the glass, frost following in its wake, and Pepper yanked him back sharply, sending them toppling into the footwell.

“What was _ that _?” Tony exclaimed quietly, still staring at the fractals on the window thawing away as quickly as they’d come. Pepper shoved his elbow from where it had lodged itself against her stomach and the howling faded as the carriage drew to a stop.

He and Pepper had only just untangled and gotten back into their seats when there came another shout from outside - this time from a voice he did not recognize - and Tony began to open the door only to be very firmly stopped by Pepper propping her feet against it with a glare.

“I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard! Reveal yourselves, ghosts, or be vanquished by my mighty hammer!”

Ser Barton’s bow dropped slightly.

“Are ghosts really a problem out here?” he asked, disbelief painted clearly across his face.

Ser Romanov shrugged. “More important question: Is that really the Prince of Asgard?” 

“Midgardians!” the booming voice shouted joyously, followed by the crashing of branches as a ragged blond man charged through the bushes. “How fortuitous!”

“You’re a long way from Asgard, friend,” Rhodey called warily from his horse.

“Indeed I am!” the blond man called back cheerfully. “Might I trouble you for some directions?”

Tony took a good look at him through the window - at his thick torn cloak and leaf-ridden hair - and cracked the small front window of the carriage to quietly instruct Happy to invite the man to make camp with them. He wanted to know what sort of coincidence just happened to bring the now reclusive Asgardian royalty into his path right before he was supposed to arrive in Kamar-Taj.

Happy subsequently shrugged at Rhodey meaningfully and Rhodey sighed deeply and swung himself off his horse.

“Break for camp,” he instructed loudly out of habit, Ser Barton and Ser Romanov neatly sliding out of their saddles and securing their horses nearby while Happy had the carriage moved off to the side.

Prince Thor was close by when Happy opened the carriage door, and it was he who reached forth to help Pepper and then himself down the thin steps. His big hands were surprisingly gentle and when Tony felt the need to shy back from the truly massive man, Thor let him go with a cheerful grin and turned to help Happy care for the horses.

He watched for a moment as the prince easily hefted the feed bag from the back of the carriage, then spotted Ser Romanov carrying the cooking pot to where Rhodey and Ser Barton had made a circle of fallen logs and stumps and hurried to intervene. They’d learned the first night Ser Romanov had no cooking skills to speak of. They’d learned the second night that Ser Barton was somehow worse. So he’d volunteered to cook meals despite the protest of the knights. And sure, maybe he was terrible at conventional cooking, but stew was an easy thing his mother had made sure he knew how to make.

It seemed in no time at all, the stew was bubbling away and the tents were set up over their bedrolls and the horses were fed and watered and brushed. Everyone began to gather around the fire and the delicious smell of the stew. Tony held back a flinch as the Asgardian prince settled heavily on the stump next to him and started ladling out bowls to pass around.

“Thank you, my friend,” the large man said as he took a bowl of stew from Tony. “I will not forget your kindness.”

“What brings you all the way out here?” Ser Romanov asked with a friendly smile as he tipped the bowl directly into his mouth.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, setting the bowl aside to take a drink. “I’m on a quest! My brother, you see, has been stolen from the heart of Asgard. He dabbles in sorcery - quite a gifted illusionist - so I thought perhaps the people here at Kamar-Taj might know of his whereabouts. Alas, the Ancient One said my kin is beyond her sight. Now I must return home, and consult with my mother and father before venturing further out. This is really excellent stew, by the way. Really excellent.”

Asgard. Well, the powerful man certainly lent credence to the rumor that Asgardian people were descendants of human/giant hybrids. And that the rumors of missing royalty were true as well.

“You seemed lost though,” Ser Barton pointed out from where he was slowly eating his own meal, gesturing at Thor and then the forest with his spoon.

“Aye,” the prince admitted with a grimace. “I was advised to return to the mountain path, but it is so long and winding, I thought perhaps a shortcut through the forest would return me to Asgard more quickly.”

"Didn't go as planned?" Rhodey asked wryly, scooting over to make room for Tony to sit after accepting a bowl as well.

"It did not," Thor admitted with a kind of unashamed bashfulness that was endearingly charming. "I ran afoul of a number of spirits and mischievous magical creatures. No match for me of course! But they are quite the hindrance. Best to stay on the path, I think, now that I have found it again.”

“Probably for the best,” Rhodey agreed, “No idea what that wailing was on our way up, but it sure wasn’t the wind.”

“Aye, I encountered the spirits as well. They seem attracted to the mountain peak, though the wards of Kamar-Taj are remarkably done and do not permit them near.”

“Kamar-Taj has sorcerers?” Ser Romanov asked and Tony heard beneath her carefully friendly veneer a thread of worry. 

“Indeed! Kamar-Taj maintains an order of the most gifted sorcerers outside of Asgard. My brother Loki maintains a solid rivalry with young Stephen over who is the most powerful sorcerer. It’s quite amusing to listen to him rant,” Thor chuckled fondly.

“Is he?” Ser Barton asked, and at Thor’s questioning look elaborated, “The most powerful sorcerer?”

Thor erupted in full-bellied laughter.

“Oh not at all! That title would belong to The Ancient One, of course. And then my mother, Queen Frigga. Loki and Stephen have never fought seriously, so I wouldn’t truly know about the power between them both. We only meet seldomly.”

“I’m marrying a sorcerer?” Tony murmured faintly, wide eyes staring into the fire and white fingers clenched tightly around his wooden bowl, oblivious to the concerned looks from his friends.

All he could think of were the tales of magic-wielders in the desert who made deals with sand demons and ifrits and djinni. 

“You’re marrying Stephen?” Thor asked loudly, surprise replacing his earlier joviality.

Tony nodded warily.

“Ah, what a shame! Such an adorable cook will be wasted on such a solemn man!”

The rest of the camp burst into laughter as Tony buried his blushing cheeks into the hand not holding his bowl. Still, Tony couldn’t stop the nervous, fearful flutter of his heart in his ribcage. Thoughts of his three-eyed, magic-wielding fiance consumed his mind to the point he could hardly rest after they all retired for the night. He slept fitfully until he finally exhausted himself.

By the time the sun woke them, Prince Thor had already packed his bag. He stayed with them only for breakfast and some lingering talk, then beckoned Tony off to the side to say his farewells.

Prince Thor took his hand and Tony flushed deeply when he pressed a kiss to it. As Tony tried to stutter out some sort of reply, Thor merely smiled and rested his free hand on his shoulder to give it a firm squeeze.

“I wish you great harmony in your marriage, Lord Anthony, and I look forward to meeting you once more, when all of this trouble is resolved.” His sincerity left Tony stunned and babbling a quiet thanks and Thor released him with yet another charming smile.

“Farewell, my friends! May we meet again so pleasantly!” he boomed heartily, hefting his heavy hammer up from the ground as though it were light as a feather and turning to follow the path down the mountain. 

Tony would have watched him leave for some moments longer, but Pepper was quickly hustling him back toward the tents to dress him for meeting his fiance this afternoon.

~~~~~~

_ ‘So much for a great first impression,’ _ he thought as he tried to smooth his hair. Pepper leaned across the bouncing carriage to fix his attempts into something at least a little more handsome. Still, he couldn’t stop fussing. He simply moved on to adjusting his clothing. They had stopped just outside the city border to try to freshen up, but he just knew his tunic and coat were wrinkled. His head ached from the worries that had been circling through his mind all day and the sleeplessness of the night before.

It wouldn’t be all bad, surely?

It was just his imagination spinning his anxiousness up. Just like always.

Except he’d always had his mother or Jarvis to calm him down before.

He tried to remember the way his mother held him. The way Jarvis had him count his breaths. For a moment, he thought he’d succeeded in calming himself.

Then the carriage stopped.

His heart pounded uncomfortably.

He took a deep breath.

Okay. He could do this.

The door swung open and Tony stepped to the edge, getting his first glimpse of people in brightly colored robes, sunlight glinting on snow-covered mountaintops, freshly-blooming trees skirting the courtyard of low buildings with an architecture he could only marvel at.

He took a step down, caught up in the sights before him, suddenly as excited as he was terrified. Was that snow on the mountain peaks beyond? What made them think of curved tiles for their roofs? Were the jewel-bright robes ceremonial or part of everyday wear?

His boot caught on one of the tall steps of the carriage.

He felt his blood turn to ice as his face rapidly approached the ground and then there were hands at his waist and his face pressed into a firm chest instead of hitting the cobblestone. His fingers bunched into thick silk-lined cotton in a panic.

It took a moment to get him back upright and his foot untangled from the step. 

He thought he might die of mortification.

He pressed his face into that warm chest briefly in the hopes of hiding his flaming cheeks and wished fiercely that he’d run off into the forest to live as a hermit.

He wondered if it was too late.

That chest beneath his hands shook with a deep rumble of laughter and Tony glanced up sheepishly. His breath caught. Warm blue-grey eyes stared back at him. Great hair, stunning cheekbones, and a nice beard framing a teasing smile.

And no sign of an extra eye.

Tony stumbled back abruptly, looking down at the ground and stuttering apologies as those hands reached out to keep him steady.

“Well,” the woman in yellow said brightly, “now that you both have met, I think perhaps I might go have some tea with Master Hamir. Wonderful meeting you, Lord Anthony.”

She turned and left with part of the entourage and Tony had the frightening realization that that was the Queen. Had he offended her? Had she seen his clumsiness and decided to go find someone better for her son? He was on the verge of hyperventilating when the prince stepped forth and took Tony’s hands into his own.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Anthony. I’m Stephen Strange.” that deep voice intoned and Tony couldn’t help but look up into those beautiful eyes once more.

This was his fiance. His actually really handsome fiance who had just watched him trip out of a carriage with wrinkled clothes and messy hair like an absolute oaf.

“It’s good to meet you too,” he managed to get out, voice faint, unsure if he could make a worse impression at this point.

“Allow me to show you to where you’ll be staying for now?”

Tony nodded and let Stephen hook their arms together. He had the brief awareness to glance back at Pepper to make sure she knew they were moving along. She merely smiled at him reassuringly and turned back to the man in red who must be helping her sort out where everyone was staying. And then he and Stephen were off into a cozy maze of stone walkways between buildings of old wood and stone. Small paper lanterns were strung along the space above to light the way and Tony wondered how they lit so many as he concentrated on not tripping on a stray stone or Stephen’s feet or just the air and his own bad luck.

“I know things must seem rather confusing now,” the prince said gently, looking straight ahead with a furrowed brow. “I know the circumstances are hardly ideal.” There was a hint of a strained smile.

“We do what we have to,” Tony said in what he hoped was a dutiful tone.

The prince turned his head to look down at him, eyes desperately sad. “I hope you’ll come to find comfort and happiness here. I really do hope everything will go well for us. And I really am sorry you had to leave your own life behind to come here for this.”

It was nice of him to say. It didn’t change things though.

He was still trapped here. And everything depended on this man, his future husband.

His happiness. His comfort. His life.

Sometimes he thought he’d made his peace with the fact that his life wasn’t his own. And then things like this happened.

And yet.

“I appreciate that,” Tony said quietly as they came to a stop before a building near a garden. He could hear the faint bubbling of a fountain and a low ring of windchimes in the distance.

“This is my favorite part of the palace,” the prince said and gestured at the door to the building, “It’s my hope that having rooms near these gardens might bring you peace, as they have done for me in the past.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

The prince patted his arm and finally released Tony’s. “I’ll leave you to get settled in and rest. I’m sure it’s been quite a long journey. I’ll have someone bring dinner to you here as well, if you’d like?”

“That would be much appreciated,” Tony said, feeling his headache return as his adrenaline faded.

The prince smiled at him. He couldn’t help but think that at least his husband was very attractive as his heart pounded anew. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Perhaps I’ll have the chance to give you the tour myself.” He bowed shortly, courteously, and turned on his heel to leave.

Tony turned to the door so he wouldn’t have to see if the prince turned to give leaving him a second thought or not.

The handle was a simple bronze and turned easily. The hinges didn’t creak. The door opened to a large sitting room that was furnished modestly, but comfortably, yet still seemed bare. Waiting to be decorated by its new resident. Doors from the sitting room led to a modest office, an equally spartan bedroom with a stone fireplace, and a bathroom that wasn’t nearly as small as he’d expected. 

Now that he was here, now that he could see his situation a little more clearly, he felt empty. He sat heavily on a chair. He didn’t know what to do now.

This was his new home.

He felt a tear fall down his cheek.

These bare walls and cold mountain wind and people in jewel-tone robes were his new reality.

He would never hide in his mother’s old music room. Never run through the sand with Rhodey again.

He hoped desperately that this place had a forge he would be allowed into. The prince seemed kind. Perhaps he would allow it.

Or perhaps his kindness was merely colored by how pretty and demure a picture his future husband painted so far.

A knock at the door broke him from his souring thoughts and he hastily scrubbed at the wetness on his face.

“Come in,” he called, breathing a sigh of relief when Pepper’s head poked around the door. She frowned in her stern manner at the sight of Tony sitting despondently in the middle of the empty room, but didn’t comment. He knew she would immediately begin planning how to add color to this place.

“The rest of us are housed next door and across the way, my lord,” she said carefully and Tony felt a thrum of disappointment that they were going to have to resume this charade here. As though she and Rhodey and Happy weren’t his very best friends.

“Who’s next door and who is across?” he asked tiredly.  
“Ser Rhodes, Ser Hogan, and Ser Barton are next door. Myself and Ser Romanov are across the way,” she said tonelessly as she came in and shut the door behind her. Her shoulders slumped. “They didn’t seem fussed about how the housing arrangements went, but I didn’t want to take chances. Tony, are you okay? You look really pale.”

Did he?

“Just tired,” he said, smiling wanly, hoping she’d let it pass.

Her frown deepened, but she changed the topic to how they would decorate the place and whether there were sheets on his bed and how she intended to find a tailor shortly because their winter gear was clearly not enough for the mountain chill.

A handful of servants - Though were they servants? They looked like monks. - brought in their luggage and the area became a mess that only Pepper seemed to truly understand. It only served to exhaust him further.

Still, the place began to look more cozy under Pepper’s discerning eyes and exacting orders once all of the knights had taken off with their own things.

Pepper finally bid him goodnight when a cheerful young woman came by with several baskets of food for the lot of them and she had made certain that Tony ate _ something _. Tony, personally, was ready to bury himself in his bed and resurface next week. Still, he didn’t relish the chill that settled in his rooms once everyone was gone.

The bedroom, thankfully, had been filled plentifully with blankets. A blessing as the temperature continued to drop the higher the moon rose over the horizon. He settled into a deep sleep quickly, dreaming of his mother’s kind smile and his fiance’s strong gentle hands.

~~~~~~

“Lord Anthony?”

Pepper? What was Pepper-?

He opened one eye, squinting at the bright light streaming through the window, to see Pepper awake and dressed in pale green. Her eyes were squinted and her lips pursed in a way that told him she was trying to suppress a smile, which was when Tony noticed the man standing next to her looking unimpressed.

“Hello?”

“Karl Mordo - I’m the Marshal for Kamar-Taj and Commander of its forces,” the man said brusquely. “The prince forgot he had duties to attend to today and asked that I...show you around.” 

He didn’t seem particularly happy to be on tour guide duty. So Tony ignored the pang in his chest, murmured his thanks, and told them he’d be ready in just a moment. 

He cleaned himself quickly and dressed in a grey tunic and brown pants, took a moment to consider the cold, then added a dark vest and his favorite grey cloak.

Pepper was waiting with Mordo and Ser Romanov just outside with a patient smile.

Mordo nodded gravely at him, which only served to intimidate him. 

“I will show you the palace first and then we will head out into the city, if that is acceptable?”

Tony nodded nervously, fingers twisting in his cloak, and Mordo set off at a brisk pace.

They left the guest quarters and passed yet more quarters for high-ranking “Masters”, apprentices, and novices until they reached the area they’d come in at. Mordo showed them a reception area that Pepper had probably familiarized herself with the day before - wooden floors and paper privacy screens and several people drinking tea as incense burned around them creating a heady aroma. Something sharper than the usual sweet smells of home. 

Mordo takes a moment to speak with a elderly gentleman before leading them further inside. 

Tony had to admire the place. It was all so beautiful here. Rich wood instead of cold stone. The way it shone warmly was leagues more welcoming than King Fury’s castle.

And yet as they explored further, as Mordo showed them the library and the kitchens and numerous study halls, Tony began to find it wasn't nearly as welcoming here as the decor suggested.

_ “I don’t understand why he’s here.” _

_ “I heard he’s not even a noble.” _

_ “Mina is losing her mind trying to sort out what we can spare from our winter stores to send down the mountain.” _

The whispers followed them down nearly every hall except the royal wing, where the Ancient One trained her successor privately. In what, Tony didn't know. They weren't allowed in yet.

After a time, they made it to the opposite side of the Palace and walked down a sort of open hall, large spans of paved ground to the right which dipped and rose in areas.

The training grounds.

A group of people dressed like the monks in Tony's old picture books stood in a formation, twisting and turning and waving their arms with sinuous purpose at the instruction of an older woman dressed in a similar style to Commander Mordo. They shouted and moved and grunted in sync, a truly awing sight. And then their arms snapped apart and orange light sparked to life between their hands which they twisted into beautiful mandalas.

Mordo chuckled at his startled step back.

"First time witnessing magic?" Tony nodded. "It's impressive, isn't it? They're only novices, but this class is showing some talent."

"It is," Tony agreed, grateful his voice didn't shake. He'd forgotten Thor had said that Kamar-Taj had many sorcerers.

Ser Romanov asked Mordo a dozen questions on their training regimens and their use of magic as they carried on.

Tony was exhausted by the time they finally seemed to have wandered the entirety of the compound of buildings that made up the palace. Still, Commander Mordo led them through yet another set of doors. 

He couldn’t help but be impressed once more as they stepped outside into some sort of central garden area. The place was steeply shadowed by tall trees with thick layers of leaves, allowing only enough sunlight to comfortably see. The air smelled thickly of soil and petrichor. Birds called softly from the upper branches while lanterns hung amidst the lower ones.

Mats and benches were spread throughout the area and Tony longed just to sit for a moment and catch his breath. To stop his heart from fluttering behind his breastbone. But he didn’t know if asking to sit would be appropriate. 

Instead, he followed Mordo to a round building of solid carved stone that stood imposingly in the middle of the area. The doorway stood open to the elements and inside Tony could just see some sort of pillar or altar in the center. 

“The Temple of Agamotto,” Mordo murmured lowly. “You’ve heard the story of Agamotto, yes?” Tony nodded, recalling Scott’s short narrative. “It’s said this was his final resting place. It’s the most sacred place on the mountain.”

Holy shrine. Awesome. He had no idea what the customs were for this.

“You’re seriously letting that foreigner into the temple?” Tony heard a man exclaim from behind them, and he turned to face him. “He’s not even a sorcerer!”

The man wore short yellow robes similar to Commander Mordo’s and Tony wondered at the style and color choice. The only other person he’d seen in yellow was the Queen.

“Master Kaecilius,” the commander greeted shortly.

“What are you thinking? Bringing him here? Of all places!” the other man hissed, his face just as stern and calmly dangerous as Mordo’s. Still, Tony felt safer with the commander and slowly stepped back and behind him.

“I am following the orders of my prince-”

“I very much doubt his highness instructed you to bring him _ here, _” Master Kaecilius interrupted.

“And also the orders of the Sorcerer Supreme,” Mordo finished pointedly, eyes narrowed.

“I swear I do not know what the Ancient One is thinking,” Master Kaecilius muttered angrily. “He does NOT belong here!” He stabbed a finger towards Tony and Tony stepped further backwards, moving off soil onto stone, his heart racing with fear - knowing now what the people here could do.

“If you have issue with this, you are, of course, welcome to dispute it with the Ancient One.”

“Perhaps I will,” Kaecilius said lowly, eyes flashing. His glare moved from Mordo to Tony, who stumbled further back into the temple, hands grasping at the shelf of books on the inner wall for stability. 

The master’s anger turned to rage.

“You _ dare-” _ he snarled, striding forward, only to be blocked by the commander. Ser Romanov stepped in front of Tony, a hand on the knife at her belt. With her free hand, she beckoned him closer to her, but Tony was frozen. And quite certain that his white-knuckled grip on the shelves was the only thing keeping him upright. 

Mordo turned the man away with sharp words that Tony couldn’t make out over his short breaths and the rushing in his ears. Natasha said something to him, but Tony could only watch that yellow back storm away. He should never have come here. He should have taken his chances in the desert or with Obadiah.

Then Mordo turned a harsh glare upon him and stormed forward, knocking Ser Romanov aside in a way she must have allowed. Tony backed further into the temple, but his legs trembled so badly beneath him that he couldn’t get far quickly and Mordo caught up to him rapidly. 

He gripped his arm tightly and yanked him forward, dragging him from the temple.

“What are you _ thinking?” _ Mordo growled, throwing him in front of him, Ser Romanov catching him and steadying him when he stumbled.

"What-?"

"You _ must _ remove your shoes when entering the temple! A lack of cultural consideration will only serve to infuriate those who oppose your presence!"

Tony stood just apart of Natasha, just enough to look stronger, even though his heart dropped. Shame and guilt settled like a rock alongside his heart in his stomach.

Mordo sighed angrily. "Let us continue then. We can go down into the city if you think you can avoid offending anyone else."

"Let's stop here then," Tony requested quietly.

Mordo started at him and Tony looked away.

"Very well," Mordo said after a moment of silence. "You know the way back to your quarters?"

"I'll get him there," Ser Romanov finally said, taking Tony by the arm and leading him away. Tony took strength from her steady calm, though his head ached as the adrenaline left him and exhaustion made every step back to his rooms torture.

~~~~~~

“You’re back already?” Stephen asked without looking up from his book when Mordo stormed in.

The commander rolled his eyes. 

“_Lord Anthony,_” Mordo drawled with disdain dripping from his tongue, “elected to end the tour early.”

Stephen frowned. “Is he alright?”

Mordo groaned as he walked past him to where the teapot was kept.

“What was that for?”

“He’s fine. I don’t know why you think he wouldn’t be,” he answered as he filled the pot with water and cast a warming spell.

Stephen raised a brow.

“He heard some gossip and got upset. That’s all.”

“Gossip? Upset?” Stephen asked pointedly.

“Some malcontents who don’t understand why this treaty is important for us as well. Nothing more.”

“And did you inform them otherwise?”

“Why would I do that?”

Stephen rested his head against the pages of his book. Vishanti save him from his stupid friends.

“It’s not my job,” Mordo insisted. “It’s not even my job to show the new diplomats around. I only did this as a favor to you.”

“Yes, because I thought you would be as helpful as you have always been with me.”

“I don’t know why you would think that. I made my own displeasure about getting involved with Midgard plain to both you and the Ancient One.”

Stephen sighed deeply.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s here. Or that I know you to be a good and kind man. Can you imagine how isolated he must feel? Here, with less than a handful of people he knows, in a foreign land that he thinks doesn’t want him?” Stephen said.

“We_don’t _ want him here,” Mordo responded drolly, rolling his eyes.

“Karl!”

“What? He is a weak, spoiled, coward of a man. His attendant caters to him endlessly. And worse, he didn’t bother at all to learn the customs of our land!” Mordo ranted, fists clenched at his sides.

“What else happened?” Stephen asked with another sigh.

“He entered the Temple without removing his shoes.”

“That’s a very easy mistake to make,” he said with a doubtful frown. Mordo scoffed.

“Queen Margaret knew better.”

“Queen Margaret is dead.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Not Anthony’s,” Stephen replied firmly. Mordo sighed and offered Stephen a cup of tea.

As Stephen sipped at it, he wondered just what else his betrothed hadn’t been prepared for.

“Kaecilius was there,” Mordo murmured over his own tea.

Stephen straightened up.

“He is furious,” he added, not looking up.

“Do you think he will be a problem?” Stephen asked carefully.

“He is taking his concerns to the Ancient One,” Mordo said primly.

“I see.”

And he did. Mother would sort him out. Kaecilius would come to understand. But in the meantime, he would keep a closer eye on the Midgardian delegation.

~~~~~~

A nap left Tony feeling better, though his head ached still. He ran a weary hand across his face only to flinch harshly at a soft knock on his door.

Pepper, perhaps, wanting to make sure he ate something.

Yet when he opened it, he was instead faced with the prince holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Vibrant reds and yellows and blues.

“I was hoping I might escort you to dinner,” Stephen asked quietly and Tony found himself surprised that there was a question implied, rather than a command.

Especially after he'd made such a fool of himself earlier. The commander had surely told Stephen what had occurred.

Still, he reached out to take the flowers, unable to resist such a pretty gift.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking a subtle sniff of the unfamiliar but pleasant flowers as he searched for a vase in his still unfamiliar rooms.

He noticed the way the prince didn’t fidget as he waited, eyes patient. Maybe Mordo hadn’t told him yet. Maybe he still had time to make a decent impression upon his fiance. So after the flowers were settled away, he tucked a hand around Stephen’s elbow and walked with him.

“How are you settling in?” Stephen asked casually. Tony had to wonder if this was a trick question. If Stephen knew the truth or there was some right answer he had to give. Howard often asked him questions to which he already knew the answers as tests of his obedience or loyalty or work ethic.

“We’re settling in well. Ser Romanov seems interested in the training the Commander allowed us to watch. He was very thorough in his tour. I’m not sure of the others. Miss Potts had them very busy earlier.”

“Hm. I was asking about you, specifically, though.”

“Oh.” His fingers itched to fidget. “I’m well. It’s all an adjustment, of course, but I’m sure I’ll get used to things soon enough.”

“Optimistic of you.”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“I-Should I not be?”

Stephen’s eyes went wide as well as his head turned sharply to look at him.

“I-What-No! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

“I’m really sorry about earlier-”

“I just meant that it was good of you to remain optimistic! I’m not sure I could do the same in your shoes.”

“Oh.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “Right.”

An awkward silence carried the rest of the way until they came to a dining area near the royal wing. The table was already set with several plates of food, steam rising and filling the air with a delicious smell that made Tony salivate.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I had the kitchen bring some of my own favorites for you to try. I hope you’ll like it?”

Tony smiled faintly, a flutter in his chest at the sight of how bashful the prince seemed. “I’m sure I will.”

Stephen and Tony had just sat down when the Ancient One entered, once again in those sunbright yellow robes he had first met her in.

Tony stood. (Shaking. They should have waited for the queen. He should have known better than to think they were dining alone.)

The Ancient One merely smiled.

“I see you both have decided on dinner?” she asked, though it didn’t really sound like a question. “Very well. I won’t interrupt. Stephen, we will have lunch tomorrow.”

And then she left.

Tony blinked.

“You can sit down,” Stephen murmured, pressing one gentle hand to Tony’s arm. He hoped the man couldn’t feel how he trembled.

Tony sat like his strings had been cut.

“Sorry,” he muttered, only pulling a plate of food over to serve himself once the prince had begun to do the same.

“Whatever for?”

Tony stared at his plate.

“I just...don’t want to offend your mother. Or you. Or anyone really, but that seems to be all I’m doing today,” he admitted quietly.

“We all know this is a big adjustment for you,” the prince said. Then he huffed a laugh. “And you definitely don’t have to worry about mother. She’s quite pleased you’re here.”

Tony’s brow scrunched together. “Why would she be-?”

Stephen shrugged. “She knows things. I try to ask her, but she’s very fond of her cryptic answers. I didn’t even know I was her chosen successor until I was nearly of age. Everyone else did. I was completely clueless.”

Tony finally looked up at him. “You mean it’s not lineage based?” That seemed so strange to him. The only reason Fury was king in Midgard was because Queen Margaret had been without an heir.

Stephen laughed though. “No! Goodness, no. If it was, I certainly wouldn’t be here with you.”

Tony tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

The prince seemed surprised. “Oh. Uh, I’m not actually the Ancient One’s son. By blood, I mean.”

“So you’re adopted?” Tony asked. It wasn’t terribly uncommon. Although certainly not usually seen amongst royalty.

“Yes,” Stephen smiled sadly, “My family was killed in a flood when I was a child. They were farmers in the valley. The Ancient One was busy fending off an attack. Afterwards, she found me and took me in and taught me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up. You must miss them.”

“I do. Though it’s such a distant memory now.”

“That doesn’t always make you miss them less,” Tony whispered knowingly, thinking of his mother.

“No,” Stephen admitted. Then he sighed deeply and began to pile more food on his plate. “But enough of this sad talk. Let’s eat. I want to know what you like.”

Tony smiled shyly and took a bite of spiced meat, groaning with delight at the richness of it.

~~~~~~

They settled into an easy routine following that dinner. Tony took breakfast with the prince and the queen, then found some way to amuse himself until lunch - usually with wedding arrangements that Pepper brought to his attention, then he shared lunch with his friends, and eventually, he wandered toward the library to quietly read alongside his fiance as he studied.

It was kind of nice, Tony thought, to be able to spend time together quietly.

Then they would eat dinner together. Sometimes in silence, sometimes not.

It was nice. Peaceful.

So very different from what he was used to.

It was so pleasant to be surrounded by kind, good people. Watching the knights train in the morning, teasing his friends. He could forget his responsibilities for a moment as he and Rhodey concocted ways to get Ser Barton and Ser Romanov to admit to their feelings for each other and then concocted ways to keep Pepper from stopping them. He could forget as he teased Happy for the blatant affection he had for the woman who ran the bakery by the east gate. 

Rhodey was making fast friends with Commander Mordo and Happy with Master Wong. Ser Barton enjoyed running the young novices through their paces and then helping them escape their chores. Pepper had only good things to say about the Queen. Ser Romanov he usually only saw at lunch, but he’d caught her roaming the bookshelves once and knew she took frequent walks around the city.

They were all here to support him. 

And yet he continued to feel the weight of his kingdom’s expectations.


	3. A Seed Planted

Stephen met with his mother for morning tea and then accompanied her on her duties to the court, then to the maintenance points for the wards that protected Kamar-Taj, then to the merchant stalls to inquire on how trade and harvests were going, and then finally they oversaw the training of the novices and apprentices. Learning opportunities, she called them. Boredom incarnate, Stephen often muttered back - knowing she found his comments amusing despite her impenetrable poker face.

“I realize I’ve neglected to tell you much about the ritual for the bonding ceremony,” The Ancient One started as they walked along the edge of the training yard.

“I know there’s a binding involved,” he said with a grin. She shot him a stern look but he knew she was amused.

“That’s true. At the ceremony, your hands will be bound and the bond will be forged between you. This particular bond, however, must be built on an existing one. One of companionship, if nothing else. There are steps you will have to take leading up to the ceremony.”

“What steps?”

“A seed planted, a meal shared, a gift exchanged, a secret kept, and a kiss given and received.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“You’ll find it isn’t.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

They walked in silence for a long while until they came to a natural stop at a balcony overlooking the valley below.

The Ancient One turned to him.

“You know I only do insist upon this to help you?” she asked him, her expression unusually sad as she laid a hand upon his cheek.

He leaned into the touch, eyes closing as he sighed.

“I know you only want what is best for me,” he murmured.  _ “Except for when what is best for Kamar-Taj comes first,”  _ he did not say.

“I want you to be happy,” she insisted with more of that unusual intensity. ”But these things take time. And it is time you  _ must _ give.”

“It just doesn’t seem  _ right,” _ he argued, frustrated with the whole situation.

His mother sighed. 

“I know. But Anthony Stark is a good man. A kind one. And he is  _ worthy _ of you, Stephen.”

“And you’re saying I need to spend time with him.”   
She smiled.

“I’m  _ saying _ , if you need me to say it so plainly, that if you spend time with him, you will  _ want _ to spend time with him.”

Stephen sighed. “Yes, mother.” 

“More than just sitting in silence together, Stephen.”

“...Yes, mother.” Honestly. She said it as though he didn’t enjoy Anthony’s company.

The Ancient One nodded regally. “Good. You’re dismissed then. I will see you in the morning.”

He bowed shortly and took his leave, thinking up plans for how to go about this ritual. He’d need to complete the first step sooner rather than later, so perhaps they could plant this seed tomorrow. He’d have to pay a visit to the gardeners to see if they had something he could work with.

~~~~~~

Breakfast was a normal affair, the prince and queen already sat at the table when Tony arrived. The eggs smelled delicious and the breakfast rolls glistened with a fresh butter glaze. He saw the other two had already begun eating, so he sat down and promptly bit into a roll before noticing the envelope tucked neatly under his plate.

“It came for you earlier. I didn’t think there was any need for it to be taken to your rooms,” Stephen explained when Tony pulled it out to examine it. “Will you meet me in the garden this afternoon?”

Tony recognized the order phrased as a question and nodded as he pulled the wax seal of House Stark loose. Likely, his father wanted to know how things were going. When he would be required to appear for the wedding. It was as close to caring about his well being as his father ever got. Or perhaps Jarvis had managed to sneak in a letter. One that really would be asking after his well-being. Or maybe, just maybe, that doctor had returned with a solution for his problem as his mother had once promised him when he was young.

_ ‘Anthony,’ _ it read. No titles or niceties. Only his father’s sharp, neat script.

_ ‘Those people in the mountains are hiding something. Something powerful. Find out if it’s a weapon and report back on that as well as their arms and manning.’ _

Tony paled and closed his eyes.

Of course.

Of course, his father only intended to use him as a spy.

Probably just to ingratiate himself to the king and continue to rise in station too.

These people here had been so kind to him.

They didn’t deserve his father’s schemes and lies.

He looked up at Stephen, who never judged him when he read for pleasure instead of learning.

Stephen didn’t deserve this betrayal.

He shoved the letter into a pocket and stood, his appetite gone.

“Anthony? Are you alright?” Stephen asked quietly and Tony looked to see his fiancé and the Queen watching him with calm concern.

“I just need some air,” Tony said quietly. “I’ll see you later.”

He tried not to run from the room.

~~~~~~

Tony came to the garden to find Stephen quietly meditating next to a small pile of gardening tools. There was a loveliness to the scene - the handsome prince in his loose, flowing clothes surrounded by small hardy roses before a backdrop of snowy peaks and a deep blue sky. It nearly took his breath away to think this was his now. Or would be soon.

He was hesitant to disturb the prince, but...

“We’re...gardening?” Tony tried not to let his skepticism show. He really did.

Stephen just smiled up at him kindly.

“Good morning, Anthony.”

“Good morning. What’s with the gardening tools?”

“We’re going to plant a tree.”

“Alright? Any particular reason why?”

“It’s a ritual of sorts. The seed is symbolic of our bond - something new and fragile and untested. As it grows, it’s meant to represent the growth of our bond.”

“A ritual?” Tony questioned hesitantly, remembering the maid’s words about The Ancient One sacrificing her spouse for long life and feeling a shiver run down his spine.

Stephen seemed largely unaware of his trepidation though, as he stood up and brushed off his pants.

“There is a certain magic to it, yes.” He seemed pleased - though with what, Tony had no idea. “It’s a simple, passive thing, but it can grow to be quite strong - as I hope our bond will.”

Tony felt flustered at the genuine cheer Stephen seemed to exude coupled with such blatantly honest words.

“So, uh, so the tree is connected to us?”

“In a way. It will grow as our, um,” and here he watched the prince’s cheeks go an attractive pink, “well, as our...relationship…does.”

“Oh.” Tony felt his own cheeks heat as he looked away. Eyes roaming, he began to notice the area they were in was mostly clear and he felt his chest tighten with anxiety as he realized there was hope for a large tree.

“Mother says she hopes we’ll have at least a strong sapling by the time of the ceremony.” 

_ ‘Sapling?’ _ Tony wondered faintly, feeling his fingers go cold as Stephen turned to pick something up off the ground.

“I noticed you didn’t eat much at breakfast, by the way, so I brought along some fruit. If you’d like some?” The prince gestured to a bowl off to the side that, sure enough, was filled with small hardy berries and small chunks of other fruits.

“Wait, but I thought the ceremony was next month?” Tony said with no small amount of panic. His heart may not hold out long enough for a sapling to grow. And the further away the ceremony, the longer his people didn’t have a secure source of trade and the longer they potentially went hungry.

Stephen’s eyes went wide. “It is. Did you not want to-?”

“No, I mean, there’s no way for a sapling to grow in time!” Unless there was? Was he just missing something here?

The prince began to smile, slowly reaching one hand forward to take one of Tony’s, as though waiting to see if his husband-to-be would startle away. “You forget. I have magic.”

Oh. Right. Magic.

Tony felt the tension begin to ease from his shoulders. His breath came easier as Stephen tugged him down to sit on the cold ground with him. Magic seemed to be a solution to many of the problems he’d spent so long trying to work around back home.

Growing a tree so quickly. Tony couldn’t help but think of the potential applications. Fortifying the land against the ever-expanding desert that often threatened to engulf the south; rapid reforestation of areas used for lumber and firewood; healing the areas damaged by the ravaging fires that tended to plague the drier areas; growing food.

He found himself in awe of the possibilities that seemed to stretch out before him.

A bowl of fruit was set in his lap.

Startled, he glanced up into the prince’s eyes and found himself caught in blue-grey yet again.

“Please eat,” Stephen requested, and Tony found himself instinctively plucking a dark red cherry from the bowl. He watched his fiancé watch him slip that cherry between his lips. Watched his eyes go darker and then saw him flush and shake himself of the trance they seemed to have mutually fallen into.

Stephen cleared his throat and plucked up a small bag of loose cloth, face growing ever pinker. Oh that, that was fun.

“So I’ve got some seeds. We, um, just need to pick one.”

Tony spit the pit into his handkerchief, saw Stephen watching him from the corner of his eye, and popped another cherry into his mouth just to watch that lovely pink spread to his ears.

“I-” Stephen stuttered, ducking his head, and really Tony hadn’t had this much fun in years, “I’ve got oak,” he prodded at an acorn amongst other nuts, fuzzy catkins, and pinecones, “aspen, willow, cottonwood, your standard pine, blue spruce, maple…” he trailed off before holding the handful of seeds out to Tony. “Several of these have their own magical properties, but I’d like to pick one together.”

“Tell me about them?” Tony asked before leaning back, pulling out a slice of apple to eat this time.

“Well, oak is typically a symbol of courage and power,” Tony caught a flash of mischief in the prince’s eyes and barely had time to wonder before he was faced with a confident smirk, “Much like how  _ courageous _ it was for you to come up here to Kamar-Taj.”

Oh.

He could feel his ears burning as he ducked his face towards his shoulder.

“Maple is balance, and promise, and magic. Much like how I am magic and  _ you _ were promised to  _ me.” _

Tony glanced up and was caught by a dark gaze.

“Willow for dreams and knowing oneself and wishes of the heart. Like how I dream of knowing you,” the prince reached forward to caress his cheek, “And how I wish for your heart.”

Tony absently popped another cherry into his mouth to keep himself from whimpering and froze when Stephen latched onto the stem and pulled it back partway so it sat between his lips. 

“Cherry trees, on the other hand,” Stephen started, intense eyes softening ever so slightly with something fond, “symbolize good fortune, new romance, affection, and  _ love.” _

Tony’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest.

And then Stephen plucked the cherry from his lips and popped it between his own, leaving Tony winded and aching and entranced.

The prince hummed thoughtfully after spitting the pit out into his hand, staring thoughtfully at Tony all the while.

“This one, I think. Don’t you?”

Tony nodded weakly and Stephen smiled brightly at him.

“Good. Finish your fruit, darling.”

Stunned, Tony scooped up a handful of blueberries compliantly.

Orange chakrams flashed in the air, manipulating the little seed, and tension faded to awe. It was becoming such a treat to watch Stephen work. The seed flashed with frost and then the chakram shifted into bands of green and with a deft twist of the hand, a sprout began to grow rapidly until the prince was holding a sapling nearly his own height. 

With a faint sigh, Stephen’s arms dropped and he laid the sapling on the ground.

“That went much easier than I anticipated,” he declared with a grin and something in his eyes made Tony’s heart flutter.

He ducked his head and stood to pick up a shovel.

Digging a hole in the ground should have been tiresome. Should have been boring and backbreaking.

Instead, he had accidentally thrown a shovelful of dirt onto the prince, who retaliated with a water spell, and, in the end, they planted their sapling in the muddy mess they had made in the garden while they laughed.

“So,” Tony started, an easy smile on his face as he leaned back in the mud next to Stephen, “This ritual. What does it entail?”

“Hm? Oh. It’s a bit archaic, but the essence of it is that we have to fulfill a number of requirements before the wedding. A seed planted - which we just did, a meal shared, a gift exchanged, a secret shared, and,” here Stephen’s faced flushed and he looked away from Tony despite their earlier flirtatiousness, “a kiss.”

Tony felt his own face flush.

“O-oh.”

This would be much more work than just a simple wedding. He had so much to do.

~~~~~~

Tony wrung his hands together as he waited for Commander Mordo to acknowledge him. 

He wasn’t certain the man had yet forgiven him for his faux pas.

He took a deep breath to try to calm himself as Mordo spotted him and dismissed the novice he’d been speaking with, hiding his restless hands behind his back as the man approached.

“Do you need something?” Mordo asked coldly with a sigh.

“I-Um. Is there a forge here that I could use?” Tony asked, regretting that he had opted for the first person he could find that he knew instead of just waiting for Wong or having Pepper ask around for him.

The commander cocked his head at him though, and finally Tony saw a hint of something that wasn’t cool professionalism from the man. “The forge? What could you possibly need from the forge?” he asked with disdainful curiosity.

“Well,” Tony started off hesitantly as his nerves ratcheted up, “I need to craft a gift for the ritual right? So I-”

“So Stephen finally told you.” The man nodded to himself. “You realize you can just buy him something from the shops and it would do just as well? You needn’t attempt to  _ make _ him something. The magic isn’t nearly so picky,” the commander said almost kindly.

“I know, I just - It’s tradition. In my family. To make a-,” he said haltingly, shyly, finishing off with a whispered, “To make a knife for your engagement.”

“A what?”

“A knife,” Tony repeated, face hot as he stared at his feet, “for an engagement. A wedding knife.”

Mordo was quiet for a long moment. Tony nervously peeked up at him and caught a contemplative look on the man’s stern face.

“Perhaps there  _ is  _ something worthwhile of your people’s culture,” he said slowly, before nodding once. “Come. I will show you to a private one.”

“Thank you,” Tony murmured, following behind him.

Mordo waved his thanks off, grinning to himself privately.

He couldn’t wait to see Stephen’s face when his fiancé handed him a  _ knife. _


	4. A Meal Shared

Tony received more letters at breakfast in the days that followed. Stephen glanced at him curiously, but just as before, Tony merely stuffed it into his pocket with a flush. Stephen didn’t know it was with shame, which only made Tony feel worse.

He just couldn’t see a way to deal with this that wouldn’t go badly. As it stood now, he could only hope Stephen didn’t think he had some lover elsewhere writing him. Pepper thought he should tell them. He just didn’t want to think that his kingdom had sent him here just to spy on them. He didn’t want Kamar-Taj to think this alliance was a sham and the suffering of his people merely a convenient excuse. But in order to explain that, he’d have to explain that his father hated him. And then he’d have to explain why his father hated him. And then Stephen wouldn’t want to marry him anymore. And he kind of liked that Stephen was willing to marry him. That he even occasionally seemed pleased by the prospect.

It was nice. And it’s not like Howard could do more than write him letters.

Still, his heart thudded heavily in his chest and he made his excuses to leave before he made a fool out of himself.

He felt Stephen’s eyes on him as he left.

Sometimes he wondered if these sorcerers could see right through him. If they knew his guilt. He’d been avoiding Commander Mordo as much as possible because he was certain the man would somehow know. He seemed like he had that kind of power.

Worse still was his time spent in the library. Wong, the librarian, constantly peered at him with suspicion. At first, he’d thought it amusing that the man was so protective of the knowledge he guarded. But ever since the letters had begun to arrive, he couldn’t stop the paranoia that the man _knew. _ He’d begun to spend less time with Stephen in the library because of it. Time he sorely missed. 

Tony only made it halfway back to his quarters before he began to feel lightheaded.

As he passed the garden, he stole a glance at their tree and felt his heart plummet as he saw the barren branches and the way the sapling drooped.

Was it fading because of him?

His father was right.

He really did ruin everything.

He had to fix this. How, he didn’t know. But this marriage had to go through and he needed the tree alive in order to do that.

Perhaps continuing the ritual would strengthen it?

He hurried to the forge instead of his room, even though his head spun. He didn’t have time to lie down. If he worked hard, he could finish today. That would fix things. It had to.

He didn’t notice the letter fall from his slack fingers.

~~~~~~

Stephen stood to pace as soon as Tony had left.

It was there Mordo found him, the remains of a half-finished breakfast still lying upon the table.

“What now?” Mordo sighed, mentally preparing himself.

“He left! Didn’t even finish breakfast! All because he got a letter!” Stephen said loudly, waving a hand pointedly, possessed by a jealousy he didn’t want to admit to himself.

“The letters again?” Mordo asked resignedly, thinking longingly of the novices he’d been shouting at yesterday for petty infighting.

“Yes! I’m telling you, he’s left some secret lover behind! He-” and here Stephen stopped abruptly, wringing his hands, “What if this is all just fake?”

“It _is _ all just fake. That’s diplomacy,” Mordo said in an attempt to console him. His words fell on deaf ears though perhaps that was for the best.

“I thought perhaps he was beginning to grow fond of me,” Stephen muttered morosely to himself. “But he’s been drifting away.”

“It’s probably his family. If you’re so worried about it, just ask him!”

“I can’t do that! What if he thinks I’m invading his privacy?”

“And what if he doesn’t know if he should talk about it because you haven’t asked him?” Mordo retorted.

“He can talk to me about anything!”

“What do you know about his family? About his friends? Childhood memories?”

“I-”

“You two don’t even know anything about each other!” Mordo shouted, finally tired of Stephen’s insufferable dramatics.

“I - You may be right. But how can we?”

“Go! Take him somewhere and do something fun! Your pining over a man you have very few pleasant memories with is sickening.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“Take him out to the lake. Use the boat we used for stargazing as children. The stars between here and Midgard are much the same. A little bit of home, if he’s feeling homesick.”

Stephen smiled.

“Careful, Karl. That was almost kind,” he teased. His friend merely rolled his eyes in response.

~~~~~~

Stephen knocked on Tony’s door sharply before nerves could get the best of him. The nerves came anyway when Tony opened the door, face flushed and sweat shimmering on his brow. The stone that had been sitting in his throat plummeted sharply into his stomach.

So much for Karl’s words about the letters being from family.

Still, he pressed on. They would be married, regardless of a distant lover. And perhaps, just maybe, he could win Tony over.

“I thought we might spend today together? If you’re not otherwise occupied.” 

“Doing what?”

“A walk? Over by the lake. It’s lovely down there and I know a spot where we won’t be disturbed.”

Tony thought about it. Thought about their tree.

“I- Yes, alright. Let me put on something warmer though. My southern blood isn’t quite accustomed to the chill up here just yet,” he joked with a small smile, fingers awkwardly clasped around the door, nearly about to shut it, before he realized that it would be rude to leave the prince waiting on his doorstep and invited him into the sitting room.

Stephen glanced around while Tony ducked into his bedroom, appreciating how pleasant the warm red drapes made the room feel. Clearly, Tony had taken to altering his kingdom’s colors in favor of comfort. 

He nearly laughed as he saw Tony come out dressed in thick fur-lined wool.

“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?” he teased as Tony added a hat to his outfit.

Tony pouted.

“Quiet, you. I grew up near the desert. I know you don’t know what that means, but I’m telling you, you’d survive just as well there as I do here.”

“Then I would do just fine.”

Tony huffed and let Stephen escort him out the door.

“Have you had dinner yet?” Stephen asked casually.

“I haven’t,” Tony replied warily. Then he remembered the next step of the ritual was to share a meal. Perhaps the prince had something planned? His heart raced as he thought of the cloth-wrapped gift on his dressing table.

The path to the lake was long and winding, but well-lit by the late afternoon sun. Tony spent much of the walk admiring the way the sunlight shimmered through the early autumn leaves.

They spent the walk on light-hearted topics of conversation. Tony reminisced about pranks he and Rhodey had pulled off back home. Stephen told him stories about his early mistakes in learning magic. How Mordo had once had to scale the snowy mountain peaks to come rescue him from his foolishness before his mother found out he’d been experimenting with high-level spells without supervision. How they’d gotten trapped by a collapsed ravine and how they’d both had to be saved by the Ancient One anyway.

And when the prince reached out to take hold of his hand as they walked side by side, his heart pounded for a whole new reason beyond exertion.

It was nearly dark by the time he saw the glassy, reflective surface of the placid lake the east side of Kamar-Taj overlooked. Torches flickered along the shore - lit by magic, Tony assumed. Butterflies continued to flutter in his stomach as Stephen led him along the lit path, their hands still clasped together tightly. Strange that such a small gesture could so effectively light up his nerves.

He ducked his head, hoping his helpless smile and deep blush would go unnoticed in the dim light.

So distracted by how wonderful his hand being held felt, he almost didn’t notice when Stephen stopped.

Before them, a broad flat boat gently rocked beside a simple dock. The deck of the boat covered in pillows and thick blankets.

“Stephen?”

Stephen only tugged him by the hand down the deck. He let go briefly as Stephen stepped across the gap and turned neatly on the boat, long legs spread wide for balance, and then Stephen reached out for his hand once more. Tony took it, even though his hand shook, even though his legs trembled.

“I’ve never been on a boat,” Tony whispered fearfully, only knowing tales of gods who drowned men at sea and creatures of water who sought to drag unlucky wanderers down to the depths. 

Stephen smiled. “Trust me.” And gods, Tony did.

He stumbled on the unsteady boat beneath his feet and Stephen pulled him into a tight embrace that had him flushing all over again and then sat him down in the midst of the pillows and blankets. He let go of Tony only to unmoor them from the dock and send them floating away across the water. Then Stephen sat alongside him and wrapped them both in a heavy blanket. 

Tony flushed as he felt his glove pulled off and replaced with a warm hand holding his once more.

There was a basket where the blanket had been folded.

Stephen grinned charmingly and reached into it to pull out stuffed wraps, fruit, and a flask of wine.

“Your dinner, my dear,” he said with a wink, and Tony flushed at the continuation of endearments.

A guy could really get used to this kind of affection. Stephen Strange really was turning out to be too good to be true. Nearly everything he’d ever dreamed of. 

He ate one-handed, unwilling to let go of the prince’s hand.

Behind them, the last of the sunlight faded beyond the glimmering lights of Kamar-Taj up the mountain. The night sky loomed clear and vast overhead. The stars glittered.

They cleared their meal and laid back in the blankets, Tony unable to resist curling in close.

He gasped as a familiar constellation became clear above them instead of the northeast, like he was used to. 

“I know that one,” he murmured, heart aching.

“You know Cagliostro?” Stephen asked nearly as quietly, curiosity and disbelief clear in his voice.

“Cag-what? No, that’s the prince!”

“What prince?” Stephen asked, shifting their interlocked hands so he could lay on his side and face Tony.

Gods, they were so close together. Tony could turn his face and they’d be nearly nose to nose. 

Tony swallowed.

“It’s a story my mother used to tell me,” Tony whispered, “of a prince that came across the ocean in search of knowledge.”

“You’ve never mentioned your mother before.” 

“She passed. Years ago now.” He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. He missed her so very much still. Stephen squeezed his hand and reached out to card a hand through Tony’s hair, making him shudder and press closer to the comfort.

“What was she like?”

“Kind. She was friends with everyone. And so strong. She ran the whole estate while Howard was assisting with the civil war in the capital.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” Tony said tearfully, overwhelmed with a sharp grief he’d thought dulled years ago. Stephen pulled him close with a one-armed hug, their clasped hands still between them.

“Tell me the story?” Stephen asked after a moment Tony took to gather himself.

“I’m not a very good storyteller.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, the legend goes he came across the sea seeking a way to save his beloved. From sickness or poison or monsters - it depends on the storyteller. My mother always said it was sickness. That his beloved was dying. She said his ship came ashore in the east, where people told him they couldn’t help him. He ventured south, where he came across people who had great skill, but still they could not help him. So he sold his gold watch for passage across the great desert.

“In the desert, the prince asked to investigate some ruins he saw in the distance. His guide tried to dissuade him. Said the place was cursed. But the prince wouldn’t hear it. In the ruins, as the prince investigated strange runes in the stone, his guide ran afoul of an ifrit - a demon made of smokeless flame. The prince went to bargain for the return of his guide, because without him he could not continue his journey. The ifrit offered him a device of magical transportation instead - said to be able to take the owner to any place so desired instantaneously.

“But the prince couldn’t leave his guide to the creature’s whims, so he traded his camel for the guide. They made it up to Midgard on their only camel left, though the ifrit sent sandstorms and mirages to try to catch them off-guard again.

“Midgard had little aid to offer them but food and a place to stay, so the prince decided to press on. His guide refused to continue with him, but also refused to risk passing through the desert once more - fearful of the ifrit - and settled in Midgard. The prince continued up the mountain, praying that here would be the place where he would find his answers. And he found many answers in magic. None were the one he needed though. Furious at the time he had wasted pursuing his most promising lead yet, he left without a word, heading north down the mountain.

“He came to Asgard. There, he told his plight to man after woman and the people brought him before the King and Queen of Asgard. They listened to his tale. Were silent for long moments. Then they told him they knew of a way. Overjoyed, he listened to their tale of a tree of golden apples in the frigid north. He declared he would find this tree. The King offered him a white fur cloak to keep him warm if he would just bring back a living branch of the tree. The prince agreed to the exchange, finding it more than fair.

“He cast a guiding spell and ventured north into the ice-ridden land of Jotunheim. The cloak he used to hide amidst the snow from frost giants. It wasn’t long before he came upon the tree guarded by a truly fearsome and clever frost giant. It took him three days of hiding in the snow, creeping closer only in the dark of night, before he reached the tree and was able to cut off a branch with three apples upon it. It took him two more days to sneak back, fleeing rapidly when he believed himself out of range of the giant.

“He presented the branch and two apples to the King and Queen, half-frozen and shivering and shaking, overjoyed at his success. They called for a feast in celebration, but he merely requested a fire to warm himself by for an hour and then their fastest steed. He needed to return home rapidly, for he feared for his beloved. They agreed easily, though they would not cease their own feasting, and within the hour the prince was on his way south. Still, he recalled the length of his journey. It was not fast enough.

“Then he recalled the ifrit and his magical device of transportation. He was desperate enough to take the risk. He stopped along the way to visit his former guide and shared his story for a bed and a meal, then carried on into the desert. The sand ripped into his skin, it blew so fiercely, and it smoothed the long fur from the cloak.

“At last, he made it to the ruins where the ifrit waited with crossed arms. _ “Back again?” _ it asked. The prince suggested a trade for his device. The ifrit asked for his soul, but the prince said his soul already belonged to another. The ifrit asked what was in his bag, and the prince turned it out - revealing his travel clothes and ragged books. The ifrit frowned at the lack of anything of value. _ “Fine,” _ he said. _ “I will have your cloak.” _ The prince, despite its sentimental value, was more than happy with the exchange and agreed.

“Nearly night now, the ifrit reached up one clawed hand and plucked the brightest star from the sky. The gem now in his fingers was the same deep, bright, burning blue and he set it in the mortal’s hand with a word of instruction to envision exactly where he wanted to be as precisely as possible. Then he took the cloak and swung it about his shoulders, admiring the deep sunset red that bled through the white at his touch.

“The prince thanked him and envisioned the edge of the desert where an old desert willow stood by itself. The star-gem flashed and then he was there. With a delighted laugh, he dug into the fresh dirt beneath the willow and pulled out his apple, still as fresh as the day he plucked it. He thought of his home. Of his beloved. The gem flashed. He returned home. His friends and advisors rejoiced at the sight of him, but he had eyes only for his beloved, now bed-ridden. With careful, tearful eyes, he fed his beloved the apple and watched them transform. Once sickly and pale, now fresh and youthful as the day they’d met.”

Tony took a deep breath. 

“Thank you,” Stephen murmured into his ear. “It was a wonderful story.”

“I hadn’t realized I remembered it so well.”

“Your mother must have told it to you often.”

“Nearly every night. It was her favorite story.”

“I’m glad you told it to me.”

Tony looked up into Stephen’s glittering night-sky eyes and wanted.

“You said you called the constellation something else?” he asked softly. Stephen grinned.

“Cagliostro. Your prince, I suspect. I studied his notes for years. He was a scholar here, who studied Agamotto’s works. They said he appeared one day from far away and left as mysteriously as he came.”

Tony laughed.

“What a coincidence,” he said with a bright smile.

He pointed to another cluster of stars in the eastern sky. “Do you have a story about that one?”

Stephen pressed his head closer still to see which constellation he looked at.

“Ah! The Hound! Well…”

They traded stories long into the night until Tony was drowsing off against his intended’s chest, heart warm and full.

He could die here, in this man’s arms, and be at peace.

Eventually, the boat made its way back around to the dock and he felt his prince press a kiss to his hair before he was shifted back onto the pillows.

Stephen got up and neatly stepped onto the dock before kneeling down to secure the boat once more. Tony sleepily eyed that neat step. It didn’t look so difficult. He stood on wobbly legs, took a few steps towards the edge of the boat. Stephen glanced up and Tony only just barely spotted the alarm on his face and “Anthony! Wait!” before he was tipping and falling, the boat sliding backwards beneath his feet, his shoulder hitting the dock hard and his leg caught on the boat still as he fell between them into water that wasn’t deep but was so cold it shocked the breath from him.

Hands pulled him from the lake and he coughed out his mouthful of water, gasping for air and shaking so hard he thought his bones might rattle out of his skin.

"You're alright. You're alright," Stephen assured frantically, pulling off his sodden cloak and tunic and throwing them to the dock. Warmth engulfed him not long after and Tony curled his fingers into soft wool.

He just barely opened his eyes to see deep blue and Stephen reaching toward him. One of those large slender hands began rubbing at his back while the other tilted him to the side, "Just let it out. Get your breath."

Tony shivered and buried his face against Stephen’s chest, the coughing dying down finally.

His chest hurt.

“Can you stand?”

Tony nodded jerkily, uncertain. Stephen bore most of his weight as he rose on unsteady legs.

“We need to get you out of the rest of those wet clothes. May I?” he asked carefully.

Tony wavered.

“It’s a long walk back. You’ll only get colder in them. Please, Anthony.”

Tony nodded again, aching even more intensely with the force of his shivering.

So Stephen leaned over carefully to undo the button of his pants and pull the clinging fabric down his legs. Tony closed his eyes and just did his best to keep his balance, embarrassed beyond measure and absolutely miserable.

The blanket from the boat was used to dry his skin and hair. Then he felt something warm being dragged up his legs and glanced down to see Stephen was giving him his pants.

“Better?” Stephen asked as he cinched the belt tightly around his waist and rolled the bottoms up to Tony’s ankles. Tony glanced shyly away from Stephen’s bare calves, grateful the man had been wearing his traditionally long tunic.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” he asked roughly.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me,” Stephen said with a smile, “Unlike your desert-bred self, I’m used to the cold.”

Tony dragged Stephen’s cloak more tightly around himself as the wind blew.

Stephen wrapped an arm around his waist and together they began the trudge back up the mountain. Tony’s toes froze and numbed with each squelching step he took, shoes still waterlogged, and his awareness hazy with exhaustion as the adrenaline began to fade. He leaned more and more heavily against Stephen as they got closer.

“Not much farther,” Stephen murmured to him as he focused solely on putting one more foot in front of the other. “We’ll go to my room. It’s much closer.”

Tony’s eyes shut, relying on Stephen to guide him down the path.

“Anthony?” Stephen called quietly.

“Mm?” Tony hummed, eyes not opening.

“Vishanti, you’re exhausted. Alright. Hold on.”

Tony felt the world shift and lift, his bodyweight pulled forward by the arms and strong hands wrapped under his legs. His front pressed tightly to a broad warm back. Tony grumbled in question as he felt them begin moving once more, through no power of his own.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Tony tucked pressed his nose to one shoulder and relaxed.

He only woke briefly when the world tilted again, returning to sleep when he was wrapped in thick downy blankets. He imagined lips pressing to his cheek in the space before sleep and sighed happily.


	5. A Secret Kept and A Gift Exchanged

He felt Pepper’s dainty hand on his shoulder. Her voice burbled through his hazy dreams. He laid in bed for a long moment after she left, watching the dust motes float dizzyingly in the sunlight above him. Or maybe he was the one that was dizzy. He got up slowly, body heavy, and went to wash up for breakfast…

This wasn’t his room.

Where was he?

Gods, he was tired still.

He turned, spotting a door, and strode over to it on legs as stiff as lumber and as shaky as a newborn foal’s. He made it to the door with effort that left him panting and dizzy, wondering if he was ill.

Pepper and Stephen were drinking tea when he opened the door to an unfamiliar sitting room, both eyeing him with concern. Stephen rose and it seemed like he’d crossed the room in the time it took Tony to blink, supporting him with a hand at his elbow.

“You should still be in bed. You have a fever.”

That explained things.

The last time he’d had a fever…

Well, he only remembered the grief on his mother’s face when he’d woken up and she’d told him he’d have to quit his knight training. The grave expression on the doctor as he’d pressed a recipe for medicine into his mother’s hand for a small satchel of gold. How weak he’d felt for months afterwards.

“Oh,” he said quietly, wondering if this would finally be what ended him.

His breathing shallowed as his heart raced.

“Anthony?”

He hadn’t gotten to marry Stephen yet.

“Anthony!”

~~~~~~

His head felt like cotton and like the heaviest stone. Darkness faded to light and sparks of orange energy and Stephen’s beautiful startled face.

“You’re dying,” Stephen whispered, and Tony couldn’t help but wonder why he sounded so sad. Who was dying?

Wait. Tony. Right. Tony was dying.

“Sshhh. Don’ tell anyone,” Tony said, though his lips didn’t want to cooperate and his words slurred together. But this was important. He didn’t want to get in trouble. “‘S a secr’t.”

_ “Anthony.” _

He sounded like he was in agony.

“St’phn?” Tony called, trying to lift a hand to find his prince, not wanting him to sound so upset.

But it felt like there was an anvil on his chest and he couldn’t move.

“St’phn? Where’d you go? Alright?”

A hand in his hair sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

“Hush. Go back to sleep.”

He still sounded like he was in pain, but Tony was so tired. And really, Stephen would know best.

He trusted Stephen.

~~~~~~

Stephen plied Tony with fever reducers and heart medicines alternatively and while he was, at best, untalented at healing magic, he did his best to soothe the damage to Tony’s heart. The sheer focus he gave the task had its own rewards as far as that went, or perhaps it was merely his desperation that allowed him to heal the worst of the damage to his beloved’s heart.

Still, fever ravaged Tony’s body. Still, he watched over him disconsolately. 

~~~~~~

He shook as Stephen helped him sit, clutching weakly at the blanket around his shoulders. Warm tea was placed in his trembling hands and he sighed as Stephen’s cool palm came to rest on his forehead.

Other than a faint hum, the man gave no indication as to what he was thinking about - healer things, probably. Nothing that Tony really understood - and then settled back to sit nearby with his own cup of tea.

The quiet began to get on his nerves quickly. He had the feeling he’d burdened Stephen too much now. The way he always had with his father. Still, he drank in silence until he couldn’t any longer.

“You know, I couldn’t figure it out,” Stephen commented lightly, with a predatory detachedness Tony was more used to seeing back home. On other people. Not his prince. Perhaps now Stephen saw what his father had always seen.

Tony froze in the process of putting his cup on the bedside table.

“Figure what out?” he asked softly, a frisson of fear shivering up his spine.

“Why you didn’t mention it to anyone. Your heart. You had to be feeling the effects of the damage to it. It’s quite extensive. There’s years worth of strain, in fact.”

His blood turned to ice in his veins.

“But then, in the middle of your fever, you said it was a _ secret _.”

Stones settled in his stomach. His shoulders began to hunch.

“So I can’t help but think - and correct me if I’m wrong here, Anthony - that you agreed to come here _ knowing _that you were dying.”

His eyes burned - in shame or sadness or loss or the prospect of finally not having to bear this burden alone, he didn’t know - but he knew there was nothing he could say now that would make this better.

His silence condemned him as much as any word could.

“You came into this - into our _bond _ \- knowing you likely wouldn’t live past the wedding?! _ Why?!” _ Tony could hear the agony under the rage in Stephen’s tone, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. The healer paced with powerful strides and anger painted clear upon his face. Beneath that though, Tony knew, was betrayal. And hurt. He’d hurt Stephen. He’d never intended it. But it was what it was.

Tony fiddled with his fingers in his lap, unable to look at the damage he’d wrought.

“Look at me!” Stephen raged, and from the corner of his eye he could see Stephen’s shoulders shake when Tony only ducked his head lower.

Then he lunged forward onto the bed and grabbed Tony by the chin, forcing him to look up at him. Tony felt a tear escape to trail down his cheek and knew he looked pathetic.

“Why, Anthony? Answer me.”

Tony looked into his icy eyes and couldn’t choke back a sob.

Nor could he choke back the truth.

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

Stephen reared back.

It was almost worse. To not have him touching him anymore.

“What.”

Tony shook at the flat tone. His shame welling up once more.

It wasn’t something that could be kept a secret anymore, he supposed.

So much for enjoying his final days.

“My father...he volunteered me. Dragged me up to the capital to meet with the King and learn about what was expected of me. He traded me in for a fancy new title.” Tony couldn’t help the bitter smile through his quiet tears. And then he felt a shiver of fear as he admitted further, “I’m not sure what would have happened to me if I’d kicked up a fuss or tried to say no. Maybe I would’ve just been disowned and banished? Or he’d have married me off to Lord Stane. Or worse, Lord Hammer.”

“Stane? Your godfather? The man you put on our invitation list?”

Tony nodded.

“Your father would have you marry your godfather?”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad. He’s very stern. And he touches me a lot more than I really like. But he does care about me. He’s...probably the only one who cares about me back home. He promised my mother he’d take care of me.”

“That’s despicable,” Stephen said flatly, looking past Tony.

“It is what it is,” Tony sighed, folding his hands in his lap as he looked away.

Silence consumed them for one long moment. Tony could only just hear the trickling fountain beyond his window and the chimes as the night wind blew.

“This isn’t right,” Stephen murmured finally, shaking his head as he backed away from Tony, “I’ll tell mother to call off the wedding.”

What?

“No! Wait! Stephen!”

Tony felt like he could hardly breathe as Stephen finally turned from him and began heading for the door.

“Stephen, please don’t. Please! I’m sorry!” he called desperately, struggling to get out of his blankets. His legs buckled nearly as soon as he got them under him. He hit the floor with a strangled cry.

“Anthony!” He could hardly see Stephen past his tears now, fingers weakly clawing their way into Stephen’s robes as strong arms lifted him back into bed.

“I’m sorry!” he sobbed, wanting to hold onto Stephen but so afraid of being rejected. “I’m so sorry. Please- Please,” his breath came faster as the realization came that his apologies hardly mattered. Stephen was too moral - too good of a man - to take part in this sham of a marriage with him. He knew now that Tony was weak and sickly and a burden upon whoever was saddled with him and certainly not good husband material. And no matter how much he’d come to mean to Tony, Tony could never have this. The kindness, the teasing, the happiness- it was all gone. 

“Anthony,” he heard Stephen call sternly, as though from the other room - his trembling grip tightened as well as it could on the fabric of Stephen’s robes - “Anthony, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath. As deep as you can.”

He couldn’t.

He tried, but his lungs stuttered on sadness that wouldn’t be walled in anymore.

His head went foggy and his vision grey. His forehead hit cloth and bony shoulder as he began to choke on his sobs.

His heart fluttered and stuttered and he felt tight bands around him both within and without and his ears filled with a shushing noise as the world tilted beneath him.

“Anthony, please,” he heard faintly.

~~~~~~

He woke to fingers in his hair and exhaustion weighing heavily on his body. Blinked his eyes open to dim candlelight and sorrowful blue eyes ringed with sleeplessness.

His name whispered on a breath filled with relief. And pain.

“I’m sor-” he weakly tried to plead again, but Stephen shushed him and cradled his face in his palms, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Tony closed his eyes. Savored the gentleness.

Then Stephen snatched back his hands as if he’d been burned.

Tony whined.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Stephen croaked, “Calmly. I don’t want to stress your heart right now. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Anthony.”

“Don’t leave me,” Tony pled.

“I won’t. I’ll stay right here with you,” Stephen said, deliberately misunderstanding his words.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered faintly again as exhaustion took hold and his vision faded once more.

~~~~~~

Tony woke to Stephen setting a tea tray on the bedside table. The cloudy daylight streaming through his window still too bright for his tired eyes.

His head felt foggy and heavy. His body felt chilled and heavier.

Stephen pressed a hand to his forehead and hummed his disapproval. Tony closed his eyes as that hand brushed his hair out of his face.

“Your fever is back,” Stephen murmured, moving to mix a packet of herbs into one of the mugs. Then, while that steeped, he turned back to help Tony sit up. His hands were careful and gentle as always, but he wouldn’t look at him and Tony felt his stomach twist.

He wouldn’t even look at him when he handed Tony the mug and explained the medicinal herbs he’d mixed in. Or when he settled in the chair across from him and sipped at his own cup of tea.

The silence stretched taut between them. A tight band Tony could feel around his heart. He took in the sight of his fiancé - maybe former fiancé now. The tired slump to his shoulders. The way his face was paler than usual. The troubled frown matched by the pinch to his brow.

They weren’t even married yet and Tony had done this.

He really was a burden.

“So,” Tony murmured quietly, feeling defeated as the mug warmed his hands, “You told your mother?”

Stephen sighed heavily.

“Not yet,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

“I wanted to make sure you were well.”

“You could’ve done both,” Tony pointed out quietly.

Stephen said nothing.

“Just...Just tell me why you’re so angry?” Tony finally asked. “What did I do wrong?”

Stephen swiped a hand across his face, the strain of things visible in the draw of his lips and his tensing shoulders.

“I won’t marry you like this.”

“Because I’m sick?”

“Because you didn’t _ consent.” _

“And?”

“I am _ not _ going to use you, Anthony.”

“You’re not,” Tony insisted.

“Aren’t I? I need an alliance to your kingdom. Something they aren’t likely to turn on. Anthony, you’re practically a hostage. And at least before, I could console myself that you were a willing one. That you were driven by duty as much as I was. To find out that you were never given the choice, even if you would have chosen the same course, I…”

His face was drawn with pain that Tony ached to soothe away. Pain that he had caused. He just...didn’t know if he was allowed, anymore.

Stephen sighed into the silence that followed and took hold of Tony’s hands, pressing a kiss to each palm.

“I care about you. Very much,” Stephen said with a sad smile and even sadder eyes. “I would see you safe and I would see you happy. If marrying me would do that for you...but I know it won’t.”

Tony glared up at him weakly.

“And how do you know that?” he spat. 

“Because-” Stephen started, but frankly Tony had had enough of Stephen leading this conversation. He’d had enough of being told what to do or what he wanted by everyone else.

“You don’t. Not that any of that even matters! If we don’t do this, my people starve. So you’re marrying me. That’s how this is gonna go.”

Stephen visibly floundered.

“I _ want _ to marry you. Maybe not for the best reasons, but I have reasons. And I like you. You’re a hell of a lot better than any other option I’ve _ ever _had. You would see me happy? Well I’m happier here than I have been anywhere else since my mother died!”

He ignored the way Stephen somehow managed to look even sadder at that.

“Anthony-”

“No!” Tony shouted, ashamed of the tears filling his eyes once more. His skin crawled at being so willful, but he shoved it down. He was marrying this sweet bastard or he was going home to die in the desert. He didn’t want anyone else. “No. I’m marrying you. I am _ choosing _ this. You said you cared. So unless that was a lie or you just don’t want to marry me anymore, we are doing this.”

“It’s like you don’t even understand what’s wrong with this,” Stephen said with disbelief, letting go of Tony’s hands and leaning back into his chair.

“Then tell me!”

“Everything you’ve said is proof that you can’t really consent to this. It’s just the best of your incredibly awful options.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want this!”

“I can work out a treaty with your kingdom just fine without this,” Stephen said coolly and Tony felt his heart plummet. “I can keep you here without marrying you. You’ll never have to go back to those people who don’t appreciate you or care for you.”

“But I like you,” Tony said plaintively. _ I like being yours, _ he didn’t say.

“And you nearly killed us both.”

His heart skipped a beat in an entirely unpleasant way. Chills ran down his spine as Stephen looked at him with a blank expression.

Stephen had always been so warm to him.

“What?” Tony whispered, hands beginning to shake.

“The completed bond ties our lives together. It would share the longevity I will have as Sorcerer Supreme with you, but if you died...Especially with the bond so new...If it didn’t kill me outright, losing you would bring me to my knees.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. That hadn’t been what he wanted. He never wanted to _ hurt _ Stephen. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Stephen murmured, looking away.

“I didn’t know.”

“I know, Anthony, but there’s just so much that you don’t know.”

“Then tell me.” He reached out for Stephen’s hands again, feeling determination well up in his chest once more.

“Tell you?” Stephen repeated as though it wasn’t that easy.

“Don’t push me - or let anyone else push me - into bonds I don’t know the effects of. Talk to me about the culture here _ before _ I mess things up or put my foot in my mouth. I’m not magic. Not like you all are. I don’t know how things work around here, but I can _ learn.” _

“I-”

“Please.”

“I’ll...ask to delay the wedding. So you have time to learn and make a better decision.”

“If that’s what you want.”

The room fell to silence again.

Stephen stared out the window.

Tony twisted his fingers together nervously.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” he pleaded quietly, staring at his lap and feeling shame burn at his face.

“About your heart or about your father?” Stephen asked tiredly.

“Both?”

“Why?”

“The others will be upset if they find out about my heart.”

“And your father?”

“He’s a war hero back home. It will...cause problems.”

“And Vishanti forbid you cause problems.”

“Stephen…”

“Fine. It’s fine. I…won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

Stephen shook his head with a sigh.

Perhaps heartache was the price of love.

He waited for the knights to come help Tony back to his quarters before leaving. It was time to speak to mother.

~~~~~~

He found his mother in meditation, so he quietly settled down before her to try to draw on her calm. They sat in silence for nearly an hour, giving Stephen a much-needed opportunity to center himself.

“Are you going to tell me what troubles you?”

Startled, he opened his eyes to see the barest of smiles on his mother’s face.

“I was...hoping to speak to you about the wedding.”

His mother’s eyes remained closed, but that faint smile stretched into something soft and happy that he didn’t often see on her. He almost hated to ask what he needed to.

“I think you should wear the blue robes with the gold embroidery. And we’ll need more flowers to offset the fall colors.”

Stephen gaped at her.

“That - That was not what I wanted to discuss. I’m sorry. I wanted-” he swallowed hard, braced for her disappointment, for her questions, “I wanted to ask to delay the wedding.”

“No,” she answered him very simply, no inflection to her words nor the slightest movement. She didn’t even open her eyes.

“No?” he asked incredulously, “But mother-”

“No.”

“But I can’t marry him like-”

“All issues will come to resolution. Just as all creeks and streams join into the ocean eventually.”

“What does that even _ mean? _”

She didn’t answer him.

“Would you stop being cryptic for just one moment and listen to me?” he nearly yelled, frustration and stress erasing all the calm he’d managed to gather during his meditation.

His mother continued to say nothing.

Stephen took a deep breath. Tried to calm himself once more. His mother had never listened to emotion-fueled arguments. Not once. “I’m just asking to delay it to the winter solstice instead. Please,” he begged tiredly.

“No,” she said once more and when she looked upon him, he knew he could not sway her.

“Why?”

“The Equinox bears power for equality. It _ is _ equality you seek in your marriage, is it not?”

“Yes, but the Solstice offers more power for the bond-”

“_And _ we cannot afford to further endanger our diplomatic relations. Imagine the consequences of asking King Fury to wait until winter, when he will have the most difficulty coming up the mountain to us. As it stands, the harvest equinox is the best time for me to perform a spell to help dispel the curse that brings their drought. I will need to draw upon the magic from your bond for that. So no. The wedding will not be delayed.”

“He didn’t have a choice, mother.”

“Nor do you.”

“But-”

“No, Stephen.”

Stephen bowed his head.

The Ancient One sighed deeply and set one hand upon his head.

“I don’t do this to hurt you, Stephen.”

“I know,” he whispered. 

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He needed to center himself now more than ever, but he knew it would be impossible here.

His mother didn’t stop him when he stood. Said nothing as he left the room where they frequently spent time together in quiet contemplation.

It occurred to him that he didn’t know where to go now.

The meditation room had always been quiet and soothing on his frayed nerves whenever the stress became too much.

He looked up to find his feet had carried him to the garden.

With a deep sigh, he sat at the fountain and stared forlornly at the cherry sapling that was meant to symbolize his marriage. His future, in a way. He looked at how thin and twisted upon itself it was, how the ground around it was already littered with its dried leaves well before the other trees in the area.

How had he not noticed?

How had he not noticed the way Anthony worried over it?

How could he have so carelessly told Anthony that it was nothing to fret over?

Perhaps it was also in some way his fault for the way the relationship they’d been trying to build had fallen to shambles.

Anthony was kind and shy and selfless and so very very hurt. He certainly deserved better than to be forced into a marriage with a man who didn’t listen to him.

Stephen looked longingly across the garden to where he’d had his fiancé’s quarters set up. Through the window, he could just barely glimpse Anthony wrapping himself in another blanket and felt a pang in his heart. He wanted to be in there helping him. He wanted to care for him and nurse him the rest of the way back to health.

He wanted things to go back to the way they were before he knew the truth. Back when he thought he’d managed to luck into a love match.

With a deep sigh, he plucked a dried leaf from the ground and twirled it between his fingers thoughtfully.

Things would never go back to the way they were. He and Anthony would be married despite his protests about propriety. Diplomatic relations between Kamar-Taj and Midgard would be sealed. And there would always be this knowledge between them. This secret that Anthony had kept and had then asked him to keep.

Stephen looked up as someone sat beside him, realizing he’d gotten too lost in his thoughts to notice them approach.

“Interesting leaf?” Anthony asked with a wan smile, fingers clutching a bundle of red fabric in his lap. Stephen felt a sharp stab of fond longing as he realized the young lord wore the overlong outer robes Stephen had given him from his own wardrobe after his fall in the lake.

He let the leaf fall from his hand.

“Not so much,” he said with a faint huff of bitter laughter. Not in the slightest.

Stephen snuck another sidelong glance at his companion. He had a healthy flush to his skin, no longer so alarmingly pale, but the dark circles beneath his eyes remained still. He shivered every time a breeze blew through the gardens, though Stephen didn’t know if that was from illness or just his natural disinclination for these colder climes.

“I know that...I mean,” Anthony sighed deeply and Stephen watched his spine straighten and his shoulders go back as he steeled himself to say whatever it was he wanted to say. Stephen wished he wouldn’t be so nervous. Wished he hadn’t given him cause to be so nervous. “I wanted to give you my gift.”

His fingers tightened briefly on the bundle of red fabric before he held it out to Stephen. The weight was light, but heavier than he expected as he took it. 

He untied the leather knots deftly and then unraveled the fabric carefully.

He couldn’t help but feel taken aback at the sight of a knife, beautiful though it was.

“I-What? Why-?”

“It’s tradition!” Anthony interrupted, eyes wide. “For my family. We, uh, we make a knife for the one we love.” Stephen’s heart stuttered. “For our intended. It’s meant to represent that the only ones who can sever the bond of love are the ones to whom the bond belongs.” Here Anthony ducked his head and looked away. “My...my father made one for my mother. She used to promise me I would someday find my match. I thought there was no hope after my father told me I would be coming here. Imagine my surprise when my first and only thought was to make one for you as the time for exchanging gifts approached.”

“You made this?” Stephen asked wonderingly, looking upon the knife with new eyes. It was solid and well-balanced in his hands, the hilt a beautiful cherry wood inlaid with delicate blue steel shaped like...like cherry blossoms. He glanced at their tree, ran a thumb over the incredibly delicate metalwork, then turned to Anthony with wide eyes. 

“I did.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful, Anthony,” he says wonderingly, not knowing what to do about the fluttering in his chest. 

“So how much longer do I have to wait for you?” Anthony asked softly, eyes on their cherry tree. Stephen frowned.

“Mother refused to delay the wedding,” he answered, followed up with a gusty sigh, “So I suppose we proceed as planned.”

Anthony grinned at him. Stephen was helpless to hold back his own tentative smile.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong to want Anthony so badly.

He attached the knife and its sheath to the belts at his waist, the weight of it unfamiliar but a treasured reminder.

He glanced back to their tree, at the way it seemed a touch more upright and healthy.

A gift.

He’d agonized over it since his mother told him of the ritual, not knowing what to give to the young lord who spoke so little of himself.

But perhaps a secret of his own would suffice.

And Anthony, so dear and sweet, deserved to be trusted. Deserved to have some kind of power in this relationship.

He took the shorter man by the hand, pulling him up from where he sat, ignoring his confused look.

“Come on.”

Anthony followed behind him, though his confusion didn’t lessen, and Stephen was careful not to move too quickly in his excitement. He needed to remain conscious of the fact that his fiancé was still recovering. 

Perhaps the best thing that would come of the wedding would be that the bond between them would help heal Anthony’s heart - both physically and metaphorically. Hopefully. If Stephen was right about this particular bit of finicky magic.

“Stephen?” Anthony asked as Stephen led him into the main hall and through a side door into the central courtyard. Only because he was looking did Stephen notice the way Anthony breathed shallowly.

Really, he shouldn’t have Anthony moving quite so far yet. But this would bring them both some peace of mind.

The Temple of Agamotto stood as peacefully as it always did in the dim shade of the central courtyard. Just looking upon it brought Stephen a sense of peace, even as it renewed his awareness of his looming responsibilities.

They removed their shoes at the temple entrance. Anthony’s grip on his hand tightened and Stephen glanced over to see the wary nervousness in his expression.

Right. The last time he’d been here hadn’t gone so well.

Still, there was no hesitation as Stephen gently tugged him under the sturdy stone roof, cool slate smooth beneath their feet. He heard Anthony gasp as he finally got a good look at the inside of the temple - the walls of aged books and scrolls preserved under heavy spellwork, the altar in the center with the small statue of Agamotto with his hands raised heavensward, the ceiling so liberally dotted with stars aligned accurately to that age-old sky.

The tiny fleck of an emerald in that glittering diamond dust that almost none of the visitors of this ancient temple ever noticed.

But he had. Nearly a decade ago.

He remembered fondly the day he’d asked the Ancient One about it.

“Stephen, what are we doing here?” Anthony asked quietly, his other hand coming up to clutch at Stephen’s sleeve uncertainly.

Stephen bowed his head and smiled.

“I owe you a gift.”

“You don’t-”

“I do. So I am going to give you a secret. And my trust.” Stephen turned to face his fiancé head-on. “My greatest problem with this marriage has been that you seemed to have no power in it. I am going to give you that power.”

“Stephen. No. You can’t-”

Stephen laid a single fingertip over Tony’s lips.

“I can. I will. I trust you.”

Stephen turned away from Tony’s conflicted gaze. Released his hand and stepped forward to the altar. A sweep of his hand closed doors that never closed. The only light came from the glimmering stars above.

Standing before Agamotto, he placed his hands on either side of the statue’s upraised arms, closed his eyes, and focused.

The spell, known only to his mother until she’d taught it to him, was slow to take effect and dug into his core. It examined his magic, learning him, knowing him. The strands of magic coalesced between his hands, spinning golden mechanisms into existence, the emerald in the ceiling winking out of existence unnoticed. Green blazed briefly until those golden mechanisms shut firmly around it. The light cut out.

Beneath the stars, he took the gold medallion from Agamotto’s hands and turned to look at Tony’s awed expression.

“This is the Eye of Agamotto,” Stephen whispered reverently. “It’s an incredibly powerful relic. In the wrong hands, it could cause untold destruction. Kamar-Taj was established with the sole purpose of guarding it.”

“You shouldn’t be showing me this,” Tony whispered, fear flickering through his awe.

“I want you to have power here. Just the location of this is a very dangerous secret. Many know we guard it, but few have ever gotten past our shields and none have ever managed to find this before we put a stop to them. So now you have leverage. If anyone here tries to hurt you, you can hurt us back. Including me.”

“I wouldn’t-I don’t want-”

“I know,” Stephen stated calmly, marveling at the certainty he felt in those words here and now after everything. “I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m telling you. I trust you.”

“I kept secrets from you. I almost killed us both,” Tony whispered, eyes closed with a pained expression.

“You were trying to protect yourself,” Stephen reasoned, feeling much calmer now than he had before. Tony needed protection. Stephen could provide that for him. Stephen could keep him safe.

“You were angry.”

The pain in his voice broke Stephen’s heart. He released his hold on the Eye and returned it to its hiding place so that he could step around the altar to stand before his soon-to-be husband.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Stephen admitted lowly, surprised to find it was true. Frustrated, yes. Unhappy, perhaps. But angry? No. Not since he and Tony had argued. He reached out one hand before pulling back slightly. “May I hold you?” he asked tentatively.

Tony nodded rapidly, biting his lip.

Stephen was quick to wrap his arms around him, savoring the press of his warmth tucked beneath his chin. 

“Is it alright that I still want to marry you?” Stephen whispered into Tony’s hair as he rocked side-to-side ever so slightly.

“I already told you that, you idiot,” Tony mumbled back.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“The wedding is in two weeks.”

“Good.” Stephen had to laugh at Tony’s grumpy response.

“We can’t change the guest list at this point,” he reminded him. They wouldn’t be able to uninvite Tony’s godfather, much less his actual father.

“That’s fine.”

“It’s not. But I’ll figure it out.” He’d talk to Wong and Karl and see if they couldn’t figure something out together.

“Okay.”

“Do you want-”

“Stephen.”

“Anthony?”

“Stop talking.”

“Oh- Sorry. I-”

“Stephen, let me enjoy this.”

“You’re going to fall asleep on me, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”

Stephen sighed. 

It wasn’t such a hardship, though, to carry his love.


	6. A Kiss Given and Received

Tony woke up in his own bed, the sensation of being held persisting as he got up and got ready for the day. It was a warm, welcome feeling. He wanted nothing more than to remain in bed and bask in it, but now that he and Stephen had largely resolved their issues there were wedding preparations to get underway. So he dressed warmly, smiling as he fingered Stephen’s cloak that had been left in his room, and set off to find Pepper to see what he could do to help.

On his way, he took a moment to inspect their tree. He thought it seemed taller and thicker. He felt a surge of hope as he spotted the tiny nubs of buds popping up along the branches.

What a relief.

Pepper, when he found her, sent him off to find Natasha to work out seating arrangements for all invited and to help fold napkins - easy work after his illness. Rhodey and Clint were apparently off hauling tables while Happy was assisting in ensuring the path up the mountain was secure.

Tony grumbled a bit, because he suspected Pepper already had the seating arrangements figured out and was just giving him something to keep busy with. Still, he went in search of the most elusive member of their usual party.

~~~~~~

Stephen was resorting books in the library, which Wong would definitely not thank him for - stomach aflutter with nerves and avoiding the wedding preparations after he’d broken three strands of inscribed beads while thinking about how Anthony still might reconsider - when he heard quiet footsteps approach where he’d nestled himself among the books.

He looked up to see Ser Romanov round the bookcase and bow politely.

“Your Highness.” 

“Ser Romanov?” he greeted uncertainly, standing from his cluster of stacks and brushing the dust from his pants.

“You care about Lord Anthony.” It was a statement that implied a question, though Stephen didn’t know what that question could possibly be unless Ser Romanov was suddenly going to threaten him into treating Anthony well - which he honestly expected more from Ser Rhodes, to be honest.

“I do,” Stephen answered slowly, brows furrowed.

“Good. I have a security concern I’d like to bring to your attention.”

“...Shouldn’t you bring that sort of thing to Commander Mordo?”

“I’d rather keep anyone else out of it.”

“May I ask why?” Stephen asked warily.

“Because it could get Lord Anthony in trouble as well, even though he hasn’t done anything wrong. And it would reflect poorly on him and my own country regardless.”

“Ser Romanov, if this is so serious…” Though Vishanti knew he didn’t want to believe anything terrible of Anthony.

“Please.”

_ “Stephen, please don’t. Please! I’m sorry!”  _ Stephen heard Anthony cry in his mind.

“What is it?” he sighed.

“This stays between you and me,” Natasha demanded. “Swear it.”

“Yes. I swear.”

Green eyes stared him down for a long moment, checking for his sincerity, before Natasha finally reached into a small satchel on her belt and pulled out a piece of parchment wound in on itself to pass to him. 

He recognized the remnants of the red wax seal immediately. He’d only stared at it across the dining table a dozen times as it mocked him for having Anthony’s attention so completely. His fingers itched to open it and discover the name of this mysterious lover. Though why Ser Romanov would bring it to his attention…?

Perhaps they were coming?

Perhaps they intended to crash the wedding?

Steal his Anthony away just as things seemed so good between them?

With shaking hands, he peeled back the flap of the envelope and unfolded the letter within.

_ ‘Anthony,’ _ it read, and Stephen nearly sighed with relief at the lack of a ‘Dear’ or ‘Darling’.

_ ‘Don’t think you can get away with ignoring my letters, boy. I know you’ve received them.’ _

Oh.

_ ‘You’ll give me the details I previously requested on their defenses when I arrive for your farce of a wedding or you will face consequences. Remember your duty.’ _

The paper crinkled and tore in his clenched grasp.

“Who is threatening him?” Stephen hissed lowly, head bowed, as rage curled in his belly like a viper waiting to strike.

“Interesting,” Ser Romanov said blandly, face devoid of emotion.

“What is?” he nearly snarled, trying to reign back his anger.

“Your first thought was ‘Who is threatening  _ him?’ _ and not ‘Who is threatening my kingdom?’” she pointed out. “You should keep a weakness like that more carefully under wraps.”

“Is that so?” Stephen asked coldly, wondering why he hadn’t considered this woman such a threat before.

“You don’t need to worry about me. We’re allies.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell your King.”

“I have a duty to my country,” she acknowledged with a nod, “But also Anthony is my friend now. There’s quite a lot I’d be willing to do for my friends.”

Stephen believed her. There was a firmness in her voice and a fierceness in her eyes that spoke the truth more than her words ever could.

“You should worry more about how much influence Lord Stark has over his son.”

“His father,” he said faintly.

_ ‘It’s not like I had a choice.’ _

_ ‘My father volunteered me. Traded me in for a fancy new title.’ _

_ ‘I’m not sure what would have happened to me if I’d kicked up a fuss or tried to say no.’ _

Of course.

Of course, it would be the bastard who started all of this in the first place.

Stephen cleared his throat and shoved the rage in his heart down deep.

“You need not worry about our defenses. Anthony hasn’t been privy to much of that just yet. He wouldn’t have anything to tell even if he wanted.”

“You underestimate him then,” Ser Romanov said finally. “He’s smarter than anyone realizes and he notices a lot more than you’d ever think.”

Stephen’s heart hammered as he recalled showing Anthony the Eye. Still, he could not think his soon-to-be husband would ever tell such a vital secret. It wasn’t like anyone else knew the spell to retrieve it. And anyway, he’d given Anthony that great secret specifically for him to have this power.

“Thank you, Ser Romanov. I will instruct Commander Mordo to have Lord Stark watched carefully. As well as certain... _ other _ parties,” he dismissed, eyes narrowing as he said the last part, remembering that Lord Stane would be accompanying Lord Stark as a...friend of the family. He had to work hard to bite back his disgust.

Natasha smirked. “Thank  _ you _ , Your Highness, for hearing me out.”

She bowed and turned neatly on her heel to stride away, leaving Stephen with a despicable letter and a cold fury.

Yes, he needed to see Karl right away.

~~~~~~

Tony quite literally ran into Stephen on his way to check the library, only just catching the hard look on the prince’s face before it shifted into surprise and then something soft that made Tony’s stomach flutter. He blushed as Stephen steadied him, awkwardly patting at Stephen’s chest in apology as he remembered the way Stephen had held him the day before.

Stephen frowned down at him and, head tilted, bent down slightly, one hand reaching forward to trace under Tony’s eye and along his cheek, turning Tony’s face ever so slightly.

Tony leaned forward to kiss him, but Stephen turned his head and chuckled awkwardly as lips landed on one flushed cheek. Tony pulled back, laughing awkwardly as well, neither of them able to look the other in the eye. 

“I just- um- have, uh, have you been sleeping well? You look tired and I wanted to make sure your fever hadn’t returned-”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I’m fine. Uh, I mean, I slept fine. I have to go!”

_ ‘Totally misread that one, idiot,’ _ Tony thought to himself, blushing furiously and hurrying down the stairs. He didn’t see Stephen behind him, hand pressed to his cheek and grinning like a fool.

~~~~~~

Two days of wedding preparations later found them refolding napkins because they hadn’t been to Pepper’s liking. This time, she’d roped in the entire group of Midgardians, Clint having protested loudly that he wasn’t any good at folding (a lie. He was scarily good at folding things into weird shapes. So was Natasha.) and Happy having set to the task with dedicated focus that did not correlate to his skill.

Tony, meanwhile, was distracted and Rhodey had had to take over refolding whatever abominations Tony attempted to fold.

"You know...you still need to kiss him," Pepper said idly.

"You think I'm not trying?!?!" Tony cried out, outraged, recalling each failure of the last few days. The kiss on the cheek had been the closest he’d come.

“At this rate, you may not even manage to kiss him at your  _ wedding,” _ Rhodey added.

_ “Don’t say that!”  _ Tony whined, burying his head in his arms.

“Listen, what you need to do is seduce him. Make yourself  _ completely irresistible. _ I recommend staring into his eyes and then fainting into his arms. Men are suckers for that,” Natasha chimed in, waving her kebab.

“No no no,” Clint sang, taking his feet from the table, “Don’t listen to Nat. She thinks she’s an expert in relationships but she’s actually really bad at them. What you’ve gotta do is make him a delicious meal. Food is the true path to a man’s heart!”

“That’s true,” Natasha acknowledged solemnly, smirking as Tony got up to pace. “But I don’t think Anthony can cook more than camp stew.”

“That is a  _ lie. _ And anyway, I don’t need to win his heart. I need to kiss him! Or for him to kiss me. I’m not picky.”

“Well, the wedding is next week - so there’s not much time. Better get a move on, loverboy.” 

Tony sat back down and buried his face in his hands as his friends made kissing sounds at him and laughed together. It warmed his heart as much as it embarrassed him.

~~~~~~

Wong watched Tony turn away obliviously as Stephen reached out to attempt a kiss and shook his head. The Ancient One beside him merely smothered a laugh behind the fan she carried with her always.

Wong leaned over toward her, meaning to ask her something he had been curious about since the start of all of this.

“This isn’t a requirement of the bond. There aren’t any requirements to the marriage bond.”

“They’re never going to get on with it if we don’t give them a little push,” she said simply, a mischievous smile teasing at her lips.

“Why do we have to push them at all?” Wong questioned warily. “This is a diplomatic marriage.”

The Ancient One sighed a laugh and looked at Wong as though he were very young. He supposed, to her, that he was.

“They have a chance to be very happy together,” she told him, a fond look in her eyes as she watched Stephen nervously reach out to hold Tony’s hand instead.

“Is that why you insisted on the bond? You didn’t mention it at all until Anthony arrived.”

“Mm. It is. There were several possibilities. If Nicholas Fury had sent anyone but Anthony, I would have insisted on a strictly diplomatic affair. Anthony, however, is a rare gift. The best of the possibilities sent to us. He can make Stephen  _ happy. _ ”

Wong grunted. “Well. I suppose they  _ are _ amusing to watch.”

~~~~~~

“We haven’t kissed yet,” Tony moaned despondently as Pepper scrubbed viciously at the grit beneath his fingernails.

Pepper sighed heavily and set her tiny brush aside, glaring up at him past the messy bangs that hung in front of her eyes. “Do you  _ have _ to have kissed him already?”

“I don’t know,” Tony whined. He went to run a hand through his hair and Pepper slapped his hand.

“Don’t ruin my hard work. You are going to look perfect for this wedding or so help me…” She took a deep breath. “It’s not like there’s anything you can do at this point anyway. The kiss during the ceremony will have to do.” She stood and walked over to the closet, opening it and shuffling through what sounded like fabric.

“I suppose,” he sighed, rising when she beckoned him over, eagerness overtaking his worry. “Tell me I’m not wearing a gown,” he joked past the flutter of butterflies in his chest when he saw the folds of white fabric draped over her wrist.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You’re not wearing a gown.” She threw a pair of pants at him and turned away. “Put those on.”

“Yes, ma’am!” he quipped with a grin, shucking off his trousers to switch them out. He couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the brightness of the color, how it was soft to the touch, and then once he put them on, the comfort of the fit.

“Shirt off,” Pepper ordered when he was finished, a baleful stare in place already for his playful grin.

“Why, Pepper!” he exclaimed, feigning shyness as he removed his tunic, “It’s my wedding day! I’m going to be a married m-” She shoved another bundle of white into his arms. With a grin and a shrug he pulled the new tunic over his head, pleased at how soft it felt against his skin and how the sleeves pulled over the palms of his hands like a pair of gloves.

“Stay still,” she warned and called Rhodey in to help. 

“Hey, princess. Nervous?” Rhodey asked with an easy smile, coming to stand before him when Pepper moved to his back.

“Not at all,” Tony lied, holding his arms up at Pepper’s direction.

She began wrapping turquoise fabric over his shoulders and around his chest, then switched to white embroidered with gold - all the while instructing Rhodey on how to hold things in place while she worked at the intricate pattern until it all pinned together neatly at his back.

Then together, they pulled a long, flowing robe over his shoulders, the tight sleeves of his tunic peeking out of the wide sleeves of the robe. Gold accents around the shoulders gave the appearance of pauldrons. More turquoise embroidered along the arm beneath it. Rhodey held the waist of the robe in place as Pepper began wrapping thick gold cloth like a belt around his middle. The high neck of it was subtly tied together by a thin gold chain and as Pepper finished, he could see in the mirror how the strips of turquoise became a heart-shaped centerpiece.

It was beautiful.

_ He _ looked...beautiful.

He hoped Stephen would think he was beautiful too.

Pepper, of course, wasn’t satisfied. She snapped gold bands around his wrists and then tugged at parts of the robe, folding here and tucking there until she was happy with her piece of art.

Then she was having him balance on Rhodey while she pulled knee-high white boots up his legs. Custom-made, comfortable, and laced at the back instead of the front.

He took in a shaky breath as Pepper pulled out the final piece of his wedding outfit. The veil. He tried to imagine how he would look with the thin and delicate lace draped over his head and shoulders. Would he look ethereal? Would Stephen gasp when he saw him? He imagined Stephen lifting the veil and finally kissing him. Would it be soft? Long? Would one kiss lead to two? Would the prince spirit him away from their own wedding feast to begin celebrating their wedding night early?

He heard the door open and close. Were they running late?

He glanced at Rhodey and felt dread at the sight of his jaw clenched in anger.

“You’ve been ignoring my letters, boy.”

Tony’s heart pounded. He glanced at Pepper, who looked back at him with wide eyes, and reminded himself that his father could not harm him here. Rhodey was  _ his  _ knight now. Not his father’s. No one here took orders from Howard Stark anymore.

With a shaky inhale, he ignored his father in favor of adjusting the bands around his wrists and bowing his head for Pepper to help him put on his veil.

“Tell me what you’ve learned,” Howard commanded. Tony felt rage begin to burn anew in his heart at the arrogance of his father, expecting his demands to be met.

“No.”

His ears rang in the following silence. Pepper’s hands froze where they were finishing adjusting his veil. He hid his own shaking hands in the flowing white robes.

_ “Tell me what you’ve learned, Anthony.” _

Tony turned sharply to face his father. The man who had tormented his childhood. The man who had made his mother miserable following the Hydra coup and could only bring himself to be kind again, to be the man he had once been, when she had been  _ dying. _ The man who had sold Tony for status to people he had no measure of.

“I have learned nothing that I have any desire to share with  _ you,” _ Tony snarled lowly, turning back to stride past Pepper and out of the room, ready now to take his place in the garden beneath his -  _ their _ \- tree. Ready to be wed to a man who appreciated him for who he was and not the things he could acquire.

His gait was graceful, lacking his usual clumsiness, and he knelt down beneath their cherry tree within the circle of beads and flowers that had been set up there for the wedding. One brass bowl filled with clear water, a wooden case he knew must contain their binding, and a stone plate of burning incense. 

Rhodey and Happy stood at his back, outside of the circle, and they would keep anyone from disturbing him now.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes. He could hear the murmurs of the crowd around him. The guests mingling before the ceremony started.

He could hear Lord Stane complimenting him, calling him beautiful, lamenting his own missed chance at such a lovely bride to what must be the other Lords and Ladies of Midgard who had come along.

The people of Kamar-Taj had rarely treated him like cattle or a prize, even when they didn’t like him. Not like the nobility of Midgard had.

Tony stifled the urge to look around and see the looks of disdain such comments would surely earn from the Masters at Kamar-Taj. Still, he stole a glance up through his eyelashes, spotting Commander Mordo and Master Kaecilius wearing nearly identical looks of disgust.

The chatter began to die down as guests took their seats and Tony subtly squeezed his own hands where they lay neatly folded in his lap, butterflies fluttering up a storm in his chest, as he realized what was coming.

He’d spent so long fearing this day.

So long afraid of a foreign prince dictating his life.

He had feared he might leave this arrangement with three masters: his father, his king, and his husband.

That the directions he would be pulled in would destroy him.

That he would live out what little life he had left in misery. In pain. Uncared for.

He looked up as the guests went silent.

Stephen, his prince, stood before him - resplendent in dark blue and gold and wearing Tony’s knife at his hip - looking every bit the king he would one day become.

And yet.

His eyes were kind. His smile loving.

He knelt before Tony with grace and took his hands with gentleness.

All his fears, all his worries, had been for naught.

Here, he was safe.

Here, he was cared for.

Here, he would live a long life - happy with the ones he loved.

Here, he had power. Because Stephen had given him that power. Had trusted him.

And here, Tony would make his vows to never betray that trust. To take no masters. To pay back every bit of kindness that was bestowed upon him.

As Stephen pressed his lips to Tony’s knuckles, Tony knew. 

He was ready to love Stephen Strange for the rest of his life.

Tony was so distracted by those lovely blue-green eyes that he completely missed the Ancient One beginning to speak, only coming back to himself when she took hold of his and Stephen’s joined hands. 

Stephen let go of him briefly, so that they could dip their hands into the bowl of cold, clear water. Then they took hold of each other again, fingers interlacing, and Tony couldn’t hold back a shy smile.

The Ancient One was chanting something, echoed by Wong and Master Hamir behind her, as she wrapped his right hand and Stephen’s left with a long strip of white cloth and Tony could only think about how they would be inseparable for the next several hours.

The white cloth was tied into a tidy bow at their wrists. From the box, the Ancient One drew a cord of intricately braided gold and turquoise string interspersed with beads as blue as Stephen’s ceremonial robes and began to wrap it over the white cloth that bound them.

They matched.

Tony didn’t know why that made him feel like he could burst with happiness.

He looked at Stephen across their joined hands and nearly sobbed at the joy he saw reflected back at him.

As one, they rose.

“Your souls are now aligned on this plane and all others. You are married in all senses of the word. You may now share your first kiss as husbands.”

Stephen smiled widely at him as his free hand rose to pull back Tony’s veil. Tony grinned back at him, nervous and so very very ready, as Stephen’s hand on his jaw tipped his head up and Tony wrapped his free arm around Stephen’s shoulders.

Pressed front to front, hearts beating against each other in sync - strong and healthy- they shared their first kiss together.

Tender. Sweet. Wonderful. Tony’s skin tingled as his nose brushed Stephen’s.

Distantly, he could hear people gasp and cheer.

They drew apart slowly, foreheads pressed together, Tony with his eyes closed as he savored the remembered feeling of Stephen’s lips on his. He was nearly giddy at the thought that he would get to do that  _ again. _

A low hum of laughter from Stephen had him opening his eyes to  _ bluegreenblue _ and he was both filled with and surrounded by love.

“Anthony,” Stephen whispered lowly, sending shivers down Tony’s spine.

“I’m so ready to spend the rest of my life with you,” Tony whispered in return, watching with awe as Stephen’s fond smile widened and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I as well,” Stephen swore.

Around them, the pale pink petals of their cherry tree fell - lit gold under the Ancient One’s spell.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty - y'all know how it goes. Kudos are love but comments are life. (unless you're being a dick)  
But seriously, tell me what you loved. Tell me what you're excited about for the sequel. Tell me anything.  
And go praise the artist! She deserves it!  
And if you want to talk - I'm turtlewritesthings on tumblr!


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